A Not So Temporary Thing
by humerus
Summary: Sequel to my fic Just a Temporary Thing. AU season 3. Four months after the events of "Tick, Tick, Tick/Boom", Kate is still staying with the Castles. But could a family tragedy make this temporary arrangement a bit more permanent?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: This is a sequel to my story, _Just a Temporary Thing._ It will make a lot more sense if you read that first. Thanks for your patience with the delay at getting this story started. RL is very, very busy (I worked more than 90hrs this week alone).

Apologies for the brevity of this chapter. It's more of a bridging prologue-y type thing between the two stories, but I'll try and get the next chapter up by early next week.

* * *

><p>Richard Castle was fidgety. Of course, if you asked anyone who knew him, they would tell you that this was practically his natural state. Especially if you asked a certain green-eyed homicide detective. But on this day he had good reason to be so restless that he couldn't sit still in his first class seat; he was going to see his girls.<p>

(And probably he was quite lucky he was still 30,000 feet above and 100 miles from JFK. If Beckett heard him thinking of her as 'his girl' he'd get the ear-pinching from hell.)

It had been seven weeks since he had seen the detective, or his daughter. The book tour had dragged on, until every face in the queue for the signings looked the same, until he grew so sick of reading the same passage from _Heat Wave_ he was tempted to flip to page 105, just to see the reaction he got.

He'd missed his daughter like crazy. It was the longest they had ever been apart since the moment his entire world had changed when he held his tiny, screaming infant daughter in the delivery room and had known nothing else could ever be this perfect, this amazing. But at least he could call Alexis anytime and speak to her, even if she did get a little exasperated at the interruption to her 'college' life.

Until the day Alexis had said, "Just call her, dad," and he had to pretend to have no idea who she was taking about.

_Her. Kate Beckett._

He'd been hesitant to call his muse at first, unsure of the response he'd get. He thought of her a million times a day. He would see an interesting article in the paper, or a fan dressed as Nikki, or get a text from his daughter and turn to share it with the woman at his side.

Only there was no woman at his side.

Or, when there was, it was Gina. Eww.

His hand itched every time he saw a phone. He wanted to call her, hear her voice, her laugh. But he wasn't sure of his reception, so he waited. He started wishing he had a dog, or fish, or even a pet rock just so he could have an excuse to call her and make sure everything was ok. Why hadn't he brought a cat before he left home? It was totally reasonable to call your loft-sitter to check on your cat, wasn't it?

Finally, he called under the pretence of checking on how the house plants were doing.

He was desperate, ok?

Things had been a bit awkward on the phone, and he wondered if it was because she didn't want him to call. Defeated, he had hung up and vowed not to disturb her for the rest of the summer.

And then she called back.

Sure it was because some mail had arrived for him marked 'urgent'. (Mail! He could have smacked himself. Why hadn't he thought of that? That was a fantastic loft-sitter-phone-call excuse.) But then they'd talked, and she apologised for being short with him the other day, but she was stressed over this case…

They'd talked for an hour, building theory around the case, talking about the boys and Lanie, the precinct, the weather, the crazy fans, everything. Then the next day she'd texted him to let him know their theory had panned out and they'd caught the killer. So he'd had to call her that night to get the rest of the details. Which is when she'd told him about their newest case…

By the time Alexis' summer program was over and Beckett had picked her up, Rick and Beckett were talking every day. He was worrying about getting RSI in his thumbs from spending so much time texting. For the past week her messages had been about the things she and Alexis had got up to. The feeling he got from knowing that Beckett was talking care of his daughter (even if she was sixteen going on sixty and didn't really need taking care of), that Alexis loved to spend time with the detective who was rapidly becoming one of the most important women in his life, was indescribable.

And he was stuck on the other side of the country, signing books.

So Richard Castle was fidgety. Could you blame him?

* * *

><p>Katherine Beckett was not fidgety. She was not anxious or restless. She was in no way excited. So she was tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She just liked the song on the radio. Well, ok the jingle on this ad, then.<p>

She was certainly in no way impatient for any of the events of today. She just happened to be driving with Alexis to JFK to pick up Castle. Yeah, the car service could have done that, but Alexis was missing her dad, and Kate had the day off, so she was just doing them a favour.

In wasn't like she'd missed him.

Except that if she was being honest, she really, really had. They'd spoken every day since she called him about that bogus 'urgent' letter, but it wasn't enough. It was just that she was used to him. Used to waking up in his house and seeing him at breakfast and driving in together and seeing his face over her desk, and across from her at crime scenes, and above two venti Starbuck's cups. The first day after he and Alexis were gone she automatically made pasta for four (she often made extra even though Martha was never there for meals, so there was some left in the fridge when Alexis got home from school the next day or for the teenager to eat if she and Castle got caught up in a case and were late home), and then had to have it for dinner every night that week to use it up. Straight after the explosion at her apartment, when she'd moved in temporarily to the loft she'd thought that staying with the Castles would be suffocating. Now she had trouble imaging her life without them.

She'd have to start soon, though. Over the summer she'd looked at some apartments and found some decent one bedroom places that she could afford with a little economy on her day to day expenses. Living at the loft hadn't been perfect; sometimes after a hard day she needed time alone, and when she was stressed out over a case she had a tendency to lose patience with Castle when he pulled a little too hard on her ponytails. But most of the time living with the Castles had felt like something out of somebody else's life. She didn't think she'd felt this happy since her mother died.

Castle had been quiet for a long time on the phone the other night when she had told him that she'd put in applications for two apartments. But she hadn't heard anything back from them yet, so she wasn't going to let that ruin her day.

Alexis was so excited she was almost bouncing up and down in her seat. Sitting in the car with an impatient Castle beside her made everything feel right again.

"You excited about something, Lex?" she teased.

"Yup," replied the teenager, still fidgeting impatiently, a wide grin on her face. She turned to face Kate. "Don't tell me you're not," she said with an eye roll. The Beckett Eye Roll, if Kate wasn't mistaken. The detective felt so proud she forgot to be embarrassed about what Alexis was insinuating.

This past week with just her and Alexis at home had been great. The longer summer days meant they were able to go for jogs around the Park when Kate got home from work. They'd watched _Love Actually_ with pints of Phish Food in their pyjamas on the couch and bemoaned all men in the world when the boy Alexis had met on the college program didn't call. This morning they'd had brunch at Kate's favourite French bakery, and spoke only _en français_ the entire time so Alexis could get in some practice. She was talking about maybe doing an exchange program, and Kate was surprised at the tightness in her chest at the thought of the younger girl going away for such an extended period.

All in all, they had a great week together. Kate suddenly understood why Martha was always popping back to pic something up, why she had never been able to move out of the loft completely. Kate knew that even after she moved out of the Castle residence she was still going to be around a lot. She might get to see Castle every day at work, but she wondered how she was expected to go days at a time without seeing Little Castle.

But that was a problem for another day. Today, her little family was becoming whole again.

Kate smiled as she pulled into the car park at JFK. It was time to get her partner back.


	2. Chapter 2

Richard Castle knew Kate Beckett had missed him. She may not have been as demonstrative as Alexis, who had run up to him in baggage claim at JFK and thrown herself into his arms (though he certainly wouldn't have minded if she had). She may not have even given him the back-slapping hug he got from Ryan and Esposito on his return to the precinct. But Rick was a details man. And in this case the details were all clues in the case that pointed to one thing; the detective was glad to have him back.

Exhibit A: She let him pay when he had taken her and Alexis out for dinner to celebrate his return last night. (And yeah, ok some might think that that only meant she missed his Visa Gold Card, but Beckett was the kind of girl who made her own way. And not putting up a fuss or trying to pay because she knew it would make him happy? That was a thing.)

Exhibit B: She hadn't objected when he sat in between her and Alexis on the couch when they got back to the loft after dinner last night. In fact after a few minutes she'd leant into his side, and let him put his arm over her shoulders.

Exhibit C: _She _had made _him_ coffee this morning.

And the final, _pièce de résistance_, was right now. She was letting him drive her Crown Vic on their way home to get ready for the book launch tonight. Sure it was probably because Madison had called just as they were leaving the precinct. But six months ago she would have told Maddie she would call her back and then driven the car. But today she had just wordlessly thrown him the keys and gone around to the passenger side.

That was a lot of evidence considering they had only been back in the same time zone for twenty hours.

Rick knew it was all in the details. And the details said Kate Beckett wanted Richard Castle around.

"Hey Castle," Beckett interrupted his musing from the passenger seat beside him. "Didn't Maddie look hot in that red dress she wore when we went out to dinner before the summer?"

"There is no correct answer to that question, Beckett." If he said no, Madison could totally overhear and hate him (and he'd be lying). But he wasn't about to tell another woman she looked hot right in front of his…uh…work partner? Live-in muse? They really needed better labels. Preferably girlfriend. Or lover. Or – perhaps most honestly – love of his life.

"Castle," said Beckett in frustration.

"What? A man has a right against self-incrimination. I take the fifth."

"Man up, Castle. If I was a guy I would have been all over that." Castle could faintly hear Madison's tinny laughter from the speaker.

Oh, God. Kate Beckett, all over that. Only in the fantasies that instantly flooded his mind, she was definitely not a guy.

Kate Beckett and Madison Keller.

And skin.

Oh.

When he came back to reality a few moments later it was to Beckett calling his name.

"Castle? Castle?" called Kate, her hand covering the cell. She moved to speak into the phone again. "I think I broke him," she told Madison. "Wear it. When have I ever led you astray?"

Silence for a moment as Madison obviously provided an example. "That was junior year!"

He tuned back in to Beckett's half of the conversation, his radar for personal details and potential blackmail piping up. "It was not my fault the teacher intercepted the note. It was improperly folded! If I hadn't spent so long trying to flatten it out so I could read it, he wouldn't have come past."

Silence for a moment, then: "There is so a statute of limitations on improper note passing!"

"Pfft, public humiliations. You want to talk about high school humiliation? Let's talk about Valentine's Day senior year, huh?"

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

"Look, just wear the red dress. Tom won't be able to keep his eyes, or his hands, off you. You can thank me later. Oh!" Beckett turned to Rick suddenly. "Um, Castle, I may have told Maddie she could bring Demming. That's ok, right?"

She was turning back to the phone before he could answer. "Yeah, well I'm asking him now, alright?" she told Madison. Beckett looked back at him expectantly.

"It's fine," Rick said, amused. "I'll let Gina know to put him on the list. In fact, if you want to add anyone you can call her anytime. She knows I do whatever you say." He ignored Beckett's indigent snort at this and keep speaking before she could interject. "Tell Madison I'm glad they're coming."

"Did you hear that? See, told you it would be fine." Beckett listened for a moment. "Maddie says hi. And thanks."

Beckett listened for a moment. "It does not mean any-" Beckett broke off and looked at him furtively. "I'm not discussing this now."

Madison obviously asked a question, because Beckett looked at him surreptitiously again and angled her body away from him and toward the car window. "You'll see tonight," he heard her say quietly. Castle figured she must have been asking about Beckett's dress, since the detective had been unusually secretive on the subject. Rick wasn't sure if that was because she was nervous about the dress or trying to knock him out with how good she looked. He figured it was most likely the first reason, but either way he was sure to be floored.

* * *

><p>Floored was an understatement.<p>

She came down with the stairs with Alexis, their arms around each other, both of them giggling, no doubt at some girly thing he wouldn't understand. Despite the small fortune he had spent on dresses for his mother and Alexis and his ex-wives over the years, he didn't really know much about them. So he couldn't really describe the dress that Beckett was wearing, except that it was some green colour that made her eyes look amazing and it was tight in bits and flowy at the bottom and there was skin. There was a whole lot of skin. And that was about when his thoughts went somewhere they never should with his teenage daughter in the room. When he came back to himself a moment (or several) later, the pair of them were at the bottom of the stairs, looking at him in amusement.

"You ladies are amazing," he said, and he could tell by the way Beckett bit the corner of her lip and looked down for a moment, and by the pink blush that diffused over Alexis' features that they appreciated the compliment. "The limo is downstairs," he told them. "Shall we?" he held out one arm to each of them. He pictured arriving at this book launch, Alexis on one arm looking both innocent and alluring, Beckett on the other, a siren, even in dark green. And then she spoilt it.

"We can't arrive together, Castle."

"What? Why not?"

She gave him the patented Beckett look of exasperation. "You know what everyone would think."

Yes, he knew what everyone would think. That's why he wanted them to arrive together. If she was going to look like that, then he was thinking that he wanted every guy in the room to be thinking what everyone would be thinking if they arrived together.

"We've been lucky that the press hasn't figured out we live together. We better not push things," Beckett continued, giving him a determined look.

And there was a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. Beckett turned and began to put her things into a matching clutch, oblivious to what she had said. _We live together._ He suddenly felt indestructible. Let every guy in the place think whatever they wanted. Richard Castle knew who Kate Beckett was going home with tonight.

* * *

><p>Rick did the usual posing on the red carpet outside the venue with his mother and daughter. He answered some of the reporters' questions, carefully navigating questions about his relationship with the real Nikki Heat. As Beckett had pointed out earlier, the press still remained blissfully unaware of their living arrangements. Although how long that arrangement would continue for, Rick didn't know. Beckett had put in a few applications for apartments while he was away, but thankfully she had missed out on them all. Still, it was only a matter of time before she found someone willing to overlook the fact that her last place had been blown up and grant her application.<p>

Shaking off the melancholy that overtook him at the thought of Beckett leaving, he headed inside to press the flesh and work the room. Some people, like some of editing staff from Black Pawn, the mayor, and the other writers he played poker with, he was genuinely happy to see. Others had to be endured because of their relationship to Black Pawn or their power or wealth.

He'd been there for about ten minutes when he spotted Esposito, Ryan and Jenny in a corner. "Great party, bro," Esposito commented around a mouthful of canapés.

Ryan nodded in agreement, and saluted him with a smoked salmon puff. Rick kissed Jenny's cheek in greeting and they spoke for a moment about their summers.

Suddenly, Rick noticed Esposito stiffen beside him. He was looking across the room, his eyes locked. "Wow," he breathed. Rick figured Beckett had finally arrived, and turned to great her, only to see that the woman who had captured Espo's attention was not a homicide detective, but their favourite medical examiner.

He was totally going to win that bet with Beckett about Espo and Lanie. Hey! Esplaine! He was totally going to use that.

Gina was giving him a dirty look which he knew meant, 'stop hiding with your friends in the corner and smooze' when there was a sudden flurry of activity near the doors. He could hear the photographers outside shouting "Nikki!" and knew he was in trouble. Beckett hated when people called her that.

"Err, I should," he made vague gestures and then shot off to the side of the room furthest from the doors. Yeah, he was a coward. But hopefully his sense of self-preservation would get him through the evening with both ears intact.

He kept half an eye on Beckett all night, trying (and likely failing) to be discreet about it. His attention was captured later in the night though, by the sight of Beckett and Maddie by the large display of _Naked Heat_ books in the middle of the room. As he watched, Beckett lifted a book and opened it to the dedication page. Rick held his breath, waiting for her reaction. He recalled what he had written after his obligatory thanks for the 12th and the people they worked with:

_For my Mother, for sending me on my way,_

_For my Daughter, for showing me the path,_

_For my Best Friend, for walking it with me._

_And for Javier and Kevin, for having our back._

It was always a fine line to walk between trying to tell her how much her sharing her life with him meant, and being cognizant of the fact that millions of people would read it, and she was an inherently private person. So he'd been careful not to use her name, though he hoped she knew that she was the only one he could ever consider his best friend.

She was so much more than that. She was his partner, his equal. She was the one he spoke to about his worries and fears, the first one he wanted to tell good news to, the only one outside his family who he knew would accept him just as he was no matter what.

He watched her read the dedication, heart pounding in his chest. And then she bit the side of her lower lip. A smile she couldn't quite contain spread over her features. There was the barest hint of a blush of her cheeks.

And it took every piece of willpower he had not to rush across the room to her.

She looked up, as though she could feel his eyes on her. Their eyes locked and there was something he had only seen there once before, when they had that dinner with her dad before the book tour. She'd put her hand on his thigh and looked at him and there was something…something he didn't have words for in her eyes. And now it was there again.

It felt like a promise.

And then Madison said something to her, and someone bumped him as they walked past, and they lost eye contact and the moment past. But it was moment.

Castle added it to the evidence list in his head. The case was getting more solid by the moment.

He just wasn't sure what it all added up to yet.

* * *

><p>Doctor Matthew Garcia's shift had ended five hours ago. If he was lucky, he might actually manage to leave the hospital within the next four hours. Unfortunately, Dr Matt was not an overly lucky guy.<p>

Standing in crowded emergency department, one still point in a sea of chaos, he allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes for twelve precious seconds. He took in a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, breathing out slowly. It was a trick he had picked up in med school, to activate the parasympathetic nervous system and force his body to relax. Even as he exhaled he could hear the sound of a siren coming closer. He shook out his body for a moment, ignored the aching in his feet, the pounding headache, the slight tremor in his fingers. He couldn't remember the last time he ate or drank, but judging by the Sahara in his mouth and the fine tremor he always got when his blood sugar was too low, it had been a while. As always, he ignored it and made his way to the ambulance bay just in time to see the patient unloaded.

"White female, driver in a single car MVA, pinned by the dash board; major crush injuries to pelvis and abdo. Pulseless on arrival. We did ALS protocol; intubated, got access, pushed epi and atropine, got a VT. Shocked and started gels, but she reverted to asystole. It was a difficult extraction with the crush injuries. Further E and A has been unsuccessful. Asystole now for…" the EMT paused, looking to his partner.

"35 minutes," the driver confirmed.

Since the paramedics were maintaining her airway and oxygenating the patient with a bag-valve-mask, Matthew started in on his survey. He looked past where her shirt was ripped open, her bra cut away, the defibrillation pads attached. Not obvious contusion to the head or chest, but beyond that he looked to see her abdomen was a mess.

Matthew felt across her hypermobile pelvis, saw her shortened, internally rotated right legs. Above him, CPR continued. Blood loss from a pelvic fracture was between two and three litres. It was likely that as the front of the car impacted and the back kept moving the patient had been sandwiched between the dashboard and the seat, resulting in a familiar fracture dislocation pattern of the femurs. That could easily cause another four litres of blood loss if the fractures were bilateral. Palpation of her abdomen revealed it was likely she had torn further major blood vessels in the impact. Even with just the fractures she had lost between four and seven litres of blood. And a woman of her size probably only had four and half. If she had torn a major vein or artery she would have bled out internally within minutes.

He ordered them to stop CPR and placed his stethoscope on her chest. He blocked out the background noises: the screaming baby in the waiting room, the crashes as a trolley was pushed over the uneven floors, the beeping of the nurse call bell. He watched closely for the rise and fall of her chest, listened intently for a heartbeat. But there was nothing to see, nothing to hear.

Her heart was not beating because there was no blood to pump.

He took a few seconds to really see her. The woman looked about thirty, with long, dark, curly hair. She would have been beautiful, he couldn't help but think. Amazingly, her face was almost untouched, just a small wound along her eyebrow, most likely an incision from flying glass from a smashed window at impact. Despite the fact that it was a head wound in a highly vascularised area, it was not bleeding.

She had had no pulse for at least thirty-five minutes, but more likely she had died within minutes of impact.

_Heavenly Father,_ he prayed, _receive your daughter._

"Time of death, 12:24," he declared.

* * *

><p>Thankfully, there was a lull not long after the MVA, and Matthew finally managed to slump, exhausted, into a chair. The slightly stale bread in the break room tasted like heaven, and Matt could have kissed the coffee machine.<p>

"Dr Matt? They found the wallet of the deceased woman, and we've tracked down her medical file from a previous admission. Would you like me to leave it here for you?" Kathy, the emergency department clerk, was like everyone's mother. Sixty if she was a day, she had long red hair shot through with grey, and the kindest eyes Matt had ever seen. She'd made him toast and tea with too many sugars when he'd been run off his feet more times than he could even remember.

He flicked through the file while he finished up his hastily made PB&J sandwich. On the summary page he found what he had been dreading. Under 'Previous Admissions' was a note for NVD – normal vaginal delivery. She had a kid.

He flicked to the contact page and grabbed the phone. Of all the things that sucked about this job; the patients who spat on you or punched you, the long hours, the partners who broke up with you because you were never home, the aching muscles, the families who threatened litigation, two things were by far the worst; telling someone they had a terminal illness and telling the next of kin their loved one had died.

But when he phoned the number next to the name listed as next of kin, it said the phone had been disconnected. There was no cell number listed. Looking for a clue, he flicked through the previous admissions to the notes from when she had been in birth suite. He found out she had successfully delivered twins, and gave Kathy the names of the two kids so she could track down their files, hoping the father or another next of kin might be listed in there so he would have someone to call.

The same name was listed as next of kin in each of the twin's files. But one had recently presented to emergency with otits media and someone had obviously checked the contact details, because the phone number – the same number with a New York area code that was in the mother's file – was crossed out and there was a cell number listed instead.

Matt took a deep breath and dialled. The phone answered after two rings.

"Beckett."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I mentioned this story would be different and very AU and I think the direction we're headed in is pretty obvious now. I know it might put some people off, but I hope you'll stick with me. Thanks for the encouragement on the first chapter. I'd love to know what you're thinking now.

Also, I'm a doctor, and I know the ED scene in here is pretty stylised and probably not consistent with policy in the US, since I've never worked there. For any other health professionals reading this, I hope you'll give me some leeway and enjoy it anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Right. Apparently the last chapter was as clear as a particularly baffling episode of _Lost_. And then I disappeared of the planet for months. Um, sorry about that. I'm not sure if anyone is still interested in this fic, but here is the next chapter anyway.

Also, someone tweeted (? Twitted? Twittered? – I work over 100 hours a week. I have no social life and no concept of social media) about this fic. I can't tell you how honoured I was! Anyway, it inspired me to post, even though this chapter is a bit short. Hope you enjoy anyway.

* * *

><p>Kate remembered the day her cousin died as a series of flashes, all overlayed with a thick blanket of disbelief and confusion.<p>

She remembered the phone call, when that doctor told her there had been an accident and Maggie was dead.

Maggie.

Maggie was dead.

She remembered her hand going lifeless, the phone almost dropping. And Castle had picked it up and spoke in a quiet voice to the doctor. She heard him ask the doctor if the boys were in the car, and her heart caught in her chest. She should have asked that. Why didn't she ask that? But he let out a big breath and she knew they weren't and she felt relief, but Maggie was still dead and those boys had lost their mother and her heart was already so broken, it couldn't break again.

And then Castle was holding her, even though they were in the bullpen and everyone could see and it was against the unwritten rules of their partnership. Then she was in a chair. Or was she always sitting? And Castle was gone and Esposito and Ryan had come to sit with her and Javier put his arm around her and she flinched and it was wrong because he wasn't Castle and only Castle got to do that but he was gone, and then he was back, and she could have time off because he told Montgomery and Esposito and Ryan walked them to the car and then he drove. It was a long drive and Castle drove just a little too fast and the rain had poured the entire time, and it seemed fitting, as though even the weather was mourning their loss.

In the car it had finally hit her, and she had just stared out the window for the first half of the drive. She thought at one point that she should have been crying. There was something wrong with her, right, if she wasn't crying? It seemed safe to cry in the car, because it was just her and Castle, and he had already seen her at her worst. It was like a little sanctuary, just the two of them.

She just stared at the raindrops flowing down her window, as though not even the whole sky could contain the tears at the loss of Maggie.

But Kate couldn't cry.

* * *

><p>"My name is Matthew Garcia, one of the emergency doctors here. As I mentioned on the phone, earlier today Margaret Beckett was involved in a car accident. It appears her car slid off the road in the wet weather and she was very badly injured. The paramedics did everything they could but unfortunately she died from her injuries."<p>

Kate felt herself nod. Then found she couldn't stop. She just kept nodding and there were no tears, because her heart was a stone, heavy in her chest. The doctor looked young. She couldn't think. She should say something. But she couldn't think. She just kept thinking that the doctor was young and there was a stain on his scrubs, a quarter-sized bit of blood in a streak at the top of his scrub pants, like he had some blood on his hand and had wiped it there without thinking and was that Maggie's blood?

"I, can we-" she knew that were things to be done, but she couldn't think. "The body," she managed. "Do you need us to-" she gulped. She couldn't remember the word. What was the word? She used it every day. What was the word? Why couldn't she think?

Castle stepped in. "Will we need to identify the body?" he asked. Identify, yes, that was the word. Her cousin. The body.

Dead.

Her cousin was dead.

Then there were questions about funeral arrangements and homes and she didn't know. Why didn't she know? She and Maggie didn't talk about this.

They went to the morgue. She didn't remember walking there, but there they were.

It was smaller than Lanie's morgue. Castle held her hand. The sheet over the body - no, not the body, Maggie. The sheet covered everything except Maggie's face. She saw dead bodies all the time, but this was different. This was her Maggie. She looked perfect, just the tiniest cut on her face. She looked perfect but she wasn't. She was dead.

"I love you," she told Maggie. "I'll find the boys. I…" she wanted to say the right thing, but nothing came out. She wanted to tell Maggie to come back, not to leave them, but it wouldn't do any good.

"Thank you," she told the nurse who brought them down to the morgue. She gripped Castle's hand tight and they walked out through the double doors of the morgue together.

She knew it would do no good, but she couldn't help but look back.

The door had already fallen closed. There was nothing to see.

There was nothing.

* * *

><p>The nurse took them to a small room with a table and some comfortable chairs in the middle. Kate knew this room. They had one just like it at the precinct. This was the room they put the grieving in, separated, delineated, as though tragedy and loss were something contagious that had to be walled off from the rest of the world.<p>

"Why are you bringing us here? We need to find the boys. Their mom is dead and they don't know. She said they had a sleep over but I don't know if that was tonight or where and I…we have to find… we don't know where they are." Kate was frustrated with the nurse and the system and the tiny room. The boys were somewhere and no one knew where and they needed her.

The nurse glanced at the door and looked uneasy. "I'll be back in a moment with the doctor and some paperwork," she said, edging around the table toward the door.

"I'm sure the boys are fine," Castle said. "If they are at a friend's then they're safe and they don't even know to worry. We'll just get this sorted and we'll find them Kate, I promise."

The still nameless nurse used Kate's distraction to disappear through the doorway. In the silence that reverberated after the nurse shut the door, Kate did her best to calm herself. She thanked Castle for his cool head in telling the Captain and arranging her time off. She checked that he had let Alexis know what was going on, but of course he already had.

Then there was nothing to do. She stared at the wall, counting stains. She looked over at the box of Kleenex the nurse had left in the middle of the table, felt it staring at her dry eyes in judgement. Somewhere, a clock ticked loudly. It was the only sound in the room. It seemed far too silent to be a hospital. She'd lost all sense of time. It seemed impossible that it had only been hours since she got the phone call about Maggie.

It was just too quiet. She wanted to shout and scream, to make a loud noise. She wanted people to look. She wanted someone to see that Maggie was gone. She wanted everyone to know that the world was broken, that things would never be the same.

Then Castle reached out and held her hand and she remembered to breathe.

She concentrated on the point where his thumb rested on the back of her hand. It wasn't much, but there was peace in that.

They sat like that for long days, until she was in control. Gradually she became more aware of the man beside her.

He was still, something that was so unnatural for him, and so tense. She could feel in the lines of his body that there was something he wanted to say but wasn't sure if now was the time to say it. She wondered when she had got to know him so well that she could read hesitation in his body language with such ease. She knew that he understood her just as well.

Then he had said the words that crushed her once more.

"Kate," he had said, so gently, like she was made of spun glass, precious. "Has anyone told your father yet?"

It was unfair. It was all too unfair. Why did she have to be the one to tell him his only niece – almost his last remaining family member – had died? Why did Kate always have to be the strong one?

"I can do it for you, if you need," Castle offered.

For a moment she thought about saying yes. But she knew she needed to do this. Her father had to know, and Kate knew she had to be the one to tell him.

But Castle offered. Because this man would do anything for her. And it meant the world.

"No, it's ok," she said. "I mean, it's not ok. I don't think it will ever be ok again. But I should be the one…"

He nodded and began to stand and move toward the door. She knew he was only going outside the room, to give her some privacy, but a feeling of panic filled her. "Don't leave," she blurted. Any other time she would have blushed at the need in her voice, hated her dependency. But this wasn't any other time.

He sat. "Not going anywhere," he murmured. His hand reached out for hers on the table top and his thumb settled on the back of her hand again, and somehow that inch of skin where their bodies met gave her strength.

She took out her phone and stared at the blank display as though it contained all the answers to the questions of the universe. With one final deep breath, she dialled.

The phone rang and rang, until she thought no one would pick up. Finally, her dad answered, sounding a little out of breath. He was always losing his cell and then he could never find it when he actually needed it.

It suddenly struck her as completely ridiculous that everything in her father's world was so normal. She pictured her dad, scrambling around, looking for his phone, unaware of the horrible news waiting on the other end.

She wondered if he would wish he never answered it.

"Dad, it's me," she managed, but her throat closed and her voice broke and the words came out as a gasp and she couldn't do it. She physically could not force the words out.

Jim picked up on the pain in her voice regardless. "Katie," he replied, his tone urgent, panicked. "Are you ok?"

She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see that. "Yes," she managed. She tried desperately to push more words past the lump in her throat.

"Is Rick ok? Alexis?" She wasn't surprised that her dad asked about them first.

"They're fine, dad." She reminded herself that her dad was strong now. That this wasn't going to be like her mother's death all over again. She closed her eyes and broke his heart. "It's Maggie."

* * *

><p>Then there was paperwork. A different nurse came back and the Kleenex box was still unused because Kate couldn't cry and there was paperwork. Kate held the pen in her hand and stared at it, because she wasn't quite sure how to make her hand work. Castle slid it gently from her and started writing.<p>

He had long fingers. She hadn't noticed that before.

The doctor came back. He still had the stain on his scrubs.

"Ms Beckett," said the young doctor. Kate had forgotten his name. She should know that, right? "I understand your cousin had two children? Do you know where they are?"

"There was a sleepover. It's their first one. Maggie -" she broke off, remembering how Maggie had been so worried about the boys, how they would go away from home for the night.

"You know the family they're staying with?" the doctor asked.

"No, I don't know the boys' friends. We live in Manhattan. I don't have much time to visit." She should have made time. She should have called more. She could have come up for a weekend.

"But the sleep over is tonight?" the doctor asked, glancing at the clock.

"I don't know. I think. Maybe tomorrow or-" it felt like there were spider webs in her head. Why couldn't she think? And what kind of person was she, that she didn't know? Why hadn't she kept in better touch, seen Maggie and the boys more?

"Is the boys' father around? Is there someone to take care of them?"

She stared at him, because the words didn't make sense.

"Maggie was a single parent," Castle answered for her. "The father is not involved."

"Ok. And Maggie's parents? Could they look after the children?"

"No. They're dead," said Kate, staring at the doctor in confusion.

Kate spent her life putting the puzzle pieces together. She lined up facts and fit them together until the picture was clear. But now everything was in a haze, and a voice at the back of her head kept repeating over and over that Maggie was dead. She felt like she was trying to do the puzzle but it didn't have a picture on the box.

"Ok, if you can locate the boys, I'll contact Child Services," the doctor was saying, but Kate wasn't really listening. She was missing something. She knew they had to find the boys and she was sick of being at the hospital with the paperwork, but no one was letting them leave. She had to find the boys and take them –

Oh. The boys. Because their mother was dead. And their dad had disappeared when the stick turned blue. And their grandparents were dead and all the had in the world was –

Oh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: I can't apologise enough for disappearing for a year between updates! I really struggled with this chapter, and I still don't think it's very good, but I wanted to get going again. I doubt anyone is still reading this anyway!

**Reminder: this story is very AU**. It's set in a world where Kate moved in with the Castles after her loft exploded in Tick, Tick/Boom. This is set 6 months after that episode, in an AU season 3 where she still lives at the loft with Castle and Alexis, but she and Castle are not in a relationship (yet). As a recap, last chapter, we found out that Kate's cousin Maggie died, leaving behind 7 year old twin boys with no family. Kate has to decide whether to apply for custody of them or not…

* * *

><p>Kate and Castle sat in the tiny waiting room with the doctor who had told her that her cousin was dead. The doctor was asking a lot of questions about their father and next of kin for the boys. But they had no one. Kate was just coming to the realisation that she and her dad Jim could be the last family these boys had. She felt the heavy weight of responsibility fall on her shoulders. She knew she would have to chose whether to apply for custody or not. And she would have to decide soon, since the doctor was already phoning child services as they spoke.<p>

Kate sat in the hard plastic chair, in the tiny room, Castle's hand clasped tightly in her own. Sometime during the paperwork and the endless questions there was coffee. It anchored her, and she knew it wasn't the caffeine, but the moment when Castle had stood in front of her and handed her the cup. It was that touch of the familiar. Everyday this man stood before her and handed her coffee.

And now everything had changed, but nothing had changed. Tomorrow he would stand before her and hand her coffee again.

It wasn't much. But it was constant. It was something sure and secure when nothing else was.

It meant they would get through this. Together.

She felt like a house of cards that had toppled over. And he was handing her the first piece to start building again.

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett made tough choices.<p>

At work she chose which line of investigation to follow, which evidence was relevant, which suspect to pursue. People thought homicide investigation was all about science, probably because of all those ridiculous procedural shows on in prime time, where they looked at the blood spatter and suddenly knew the height and weight of the perp. But in every investigation there were a thousand different paths to take, and Kate directed her team with unwavering steps. Her choices could mean the difference between Innocent and Guilt, between Justice and Failure.

And most of those decisions, she made alone.

Sure, Ryan and Esposito gave her information and opinions, and she valued them. But at the end of the day, she stood alone as the leader of their unit, and the onus fell upon her.

She bore the heavy weight of responsibility and did not falter.

Where Esposito and Ryan gave her the facts, Castle gave her the story, the motive. At times lately, Castle gave her her motivation. But what Kate did, her job, was the basis of her very identity. It was not the same for Castle. And Kate would always remember that he could leave her world as easily as he had entered it.

He did not have the obligation that she did. She was called to find Justice. And she would not fail.

In her personal life she made the rules. She said when men came, and when they left. She made the choices. And yet somehow Castle had found his way through that seemingly impenetrable wall of her life.

Now she had another choice to make. What would she do with two seven year olds who had no one in this world but her?

Could she do this alone?

Would she have to?

* * *

><p>They arrived at Maggie's apartment and Kate used her key to let them in. The moment the door opened she was hit with a wave of Maggie's sent. Maggie's body down in the morgue had smelled all wrong, like antiseptic and formaldehyde and the iron tinge of blood. But the apartment spelled like vanilla and wildflowers and sharing bunk beds on summer vacations at the cabin on the lake with their families when they were teenagers.<p>

God, Kate missed her so much already.

The apartment was still empty, dishes in the sink, Lego spilled out on the lounge floor, the light blinking on the answering machine. Like even the apartment was waiting for Maggie to come home.

"Any ideas on finding out which friend the boys were staying with?" asked Castle. "Maybe a datebook or list of phone numbers?"

They looked on the table and then the kitchen bench but there was nothing obvious. Kate looked on the fridge, not really sure what she was expecting to find, but there was only the boys' artwork, proudly displayed.

The blinking light of the answering machine attracted her attention again, and she hit play.

"You have two new messages. Message received at 1:09 pm."

Beep.

"Hi Maggie, it's Anne. Uh, just a reminder that the sleep over was ending at twelve, so the boys are here ready to be picked up. Umm, I guess you're not answering because you're on the way, so we'll see you soon. Err, ok, bye."

Beep.

Kate felt herself slump against the counter in relief. The boys were safe. Beside her, the answering machine continued to play.

"Message received at 2:55 pm."

"Uh, hi again Maggie, I hope everything is ok. Um, we're getting a bit worried here. We can take care of the boys til later if you need, just let us know. Err, maybe I'll try your cell again. Right so, uh, I hope you're ok."

Beep.

It was simple then to locate Anne's number in the list by the phone. Kate reached for the phone to call her, but stopped at the touch of Castle's hand on her forearm. His fingers slid lightly up to her wrist and then eased the receiver from her hand.

"Let me, Kate," he begged.

She wanted to argue. She could do this. She was tougher than this.

But he already knew that. He wouldn't think less of her.

She nodded, relinquishing her hold on the phone. Castle let out a breath of relief beside her.

She didn't think she could bear to hear those words again. _Accident. Died. Nothing they could do. Dead. Dead. Dead. _She left the small open kitchen/lounge area of the apartment while Castle was picking up the phone to dial and blindly took the first door she came across in the hallway.

It was the boys' room. The two twin beds took up almost the entire area of the bedroom. The tiny area of floor space between the two narrow beds was covered with toys. Kate found herself sitting on the patch of empty floor at the foot of one of the beds, leaning back against the mattress.

She had to think. Had to make a choice. Could she take care of the boys? They didn't have any more family, but maybe had a friend who would want to take care of the boys. Would Maggie want her to?

She looked around the empty room as though searching for the answer. Her gaze was caught by a piece of fabric crumpled on the floor beside her. She picked it up and unfurled it, only to find it was a dress-up Batman cape. She ran her hands over the silky surface. She had brought this for the boys, she remembered. They had always thought her job was so cool, catching the bad guys just like a superhero.

Kate had a sudden flash of visiting Maggie and the boys a couple of years ago. They'd been excited for weeks before her visit, although when she actually arrived they'd been disappointed. Somehow they'd gotten the idea that she drove a Batmobile and were devastated to see her pull up on her bike. It wasn't even like Robin's motorbike, and it didn't have a button to release oil to make the bad guys run off the road when they were chasing her. Kate was pretty sure her 'cool Aunt' status had dropped significantly that day.

She wasn't really their aunt, of course. But they always called her Aunty Kate. It had never seemed to matter before, but would that make a difference to what happened now?

At first, all her focus had been on getting to the hospital and finding the boys. At the horror of losing her cousin, she hadn't been able to contemplate more than one moment at a time. It wasn't until the doctor at the hospital had started asking that she realised the boys had no one left now. Maggie had been pretty into the drug scene when she got pregnant with the twins. The father had split pretty quickly – Kate had never even met him. But Maggie had turned her life around, all for her boys. They were the centre of her existence. Maggie's parents were both dead and she didn't have any siblings, so Maggie had done it tough, raising the boys alone.

Kate knew her father had helped since he got sober. But he was getting older, and Kate wondered if he could care for the boys full time. But then, what were the alternatives? Could she take care of two seven year olds? Wouldn't they be better off with a loving family, two parents, a stable home, rather than a work-addicted, damaged detective?

On the other hand, Kate had seen enough of the foster system to know the realities of what they faced. The system was overcrowded and completely overburdened. There was no guarantee of a safe, 'normal' family if they went into care. Especially if they wanted to stay together. There weren't too many families that wanted two kids. More than likely they would end up in a group home.

What but else could she do? Could she take care of two kids? Would they even give her custody? Would they be better off without her?

Could she even afford to take care of them? She was struggling now to get the money together to get a place and just to pay her own expenses. Everyone was always saying how expensive kids were. How could she support two boys on her detective's wages? Her dad wasn't really in the position to be able to help out much with money.

It felt like her skull would explode with all the questions. The indecision was like a lead weight in her stomach, tucked up under her ribs. She wished her mother were here. She had no idea what to do, and all she wanted was her mother to tell her everything would be ok. It had been years since her mom died, but there were still some times she was desperate to have her back for just a minute.

As she sat on the floor, head in her hands, and thought about how much she wanted her mother here, she realised that the boys would feel the same way. They could never ask their mom for advice again. Maybe they wouldn't realise that today, but someday they would want to ask a girl to a dance, or pick a college or chose a career. They would to look to their mom for guidance. And she wouldn't be there.

Kate knew that feeling.

And maybe that made her the best thing these boys had.

Maybe this wasn't a big decision. Maybe she didn't have to think about money and finding an apartment and all the hours she worked. Maybe she just had to love these boys.

She could do that.

She continued to sit on the floor of the bedroom, her head resting back on the bed behind her, her fingers tracing the bat symbol on the black cape. The recognisable thump of Castle's footsteps sounded in the hallway for a moment and then paused at the bedroom door.

"Kate?" his muffled voice asked.

She made a noise which Castle obviously took as permission to enter, because his head appeared around the door a second later. He locked eyes with her for a moment and she knew he was saying that he'd found the boys and got directions to the house where they were having the sleepover. She maintained the eye contact for a moment and knew he would understand that she was thanking him for calling, for being there, for driving them here, for giving her a moment alone with a Batman cape to find some strength.

She stroked the cape in her hands once more, then carefully, deliberately, folded it, smoothing the surfaces as she went. She stood from her position at the end of the bed and opened the lid of the wooden toy chest in the corner. Her dad had made this for the boys, she remembered. Part of this therapy when he was drying out was learning wood crafting. It seemed symbolic, fitting somehow, to put this symbol of innocence away in that box.

Castle seemed to appreciate the metaphor. "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things," he murmured quietly.

Kate carefully placed the cape in the toy chest and closed the lid.

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett knew how to break bad news.<p>

First, you got rid of any distractions – cell phone, pager, other people – so you wouldn't be disturbed. Then you went into a quiet room, preferably with muted lighting, enough seats for everyone. And tissues. You closed the door. You sat down so that you were eye level with the family. You used open body language. You addressed the next of kin by name if you knew it, and used the decedent's name. You introduced yourself and your role. You gave a brief explanation, with no complex or emotive language. But you made sure you said 'dead' so there was no confusion.

And then you waited.

First, there was silence. Then an outpouring. The first words were almost always 'what?' or 'no'. A denial. A desperate attempt to keep the truth at bay.

You stayed firm. You conveyed regret. You spent as much time as you could.

Kate Beckett knew how to break bad news. She was good at it, in fact.

But then, Kate Beckett had never told two seven year olds that their mother – her cousin – was never coming home.


	5. Chapter 5

He had never in his life felt so useless.

Richard Castle was a fixer. When his mother was taken to the cleaners by another scoundrel of an ex-husband, he gave her a listening ear and a place to stay and an expense account. When Meredith broke another promise to Alexis because of an audition for a one-line role, Rick dried his daughter's tears and took her out for ice cream. When Kate's apartment blew up, Rick gave her a home.

When he found out about Kate's mother, he'd wanted so bad to fix it for her. To find her killer and save the day. He'd thought about every contact he'd made in nearly two decades of mystery writing, and found the best to consult on the case.

And it had blown up in his face.

Now Kate's cousin had died and she had lost one of the last remaining links to her family. But he couldn't do anything to fix it. It physically hurt to look at her, to see the woman he – well, to see his Kate going through this.

She was trying to be strong for the boys, and maybe to an outsider it would look like she was coping. But Kate Beckett was a book that Richard Castle could spend his whole life reading, and her pain was as obvious as a typo on the title page.

Richard Castle fixed. It was just what he did. But right now he had no idea what to do.

It was horrible. It had only been a bit over thirty hours since they had found out that Maggie had died. But those thirty hours had been filled with choosing funeral homes and coffins and flowers and churches and readings and cemeteries and gravestones or cremation and a thousand other Things To Consider, and Decisions To Be Made. And everything was important and he couldn't help but think of all the people he had callously killed off in his books, and was suddenly grateful he didn't have to write all this stuff, because he never would have even finished his first novel if he had to actually bury the guy.

Rick sighed and as he began to fill the sink to wash the pile of dishes in the kitchen. At least that was a problem he could fix. As he waiting for the sink to fill, he thought back over everything that had happened since they'd found the boys yesterday.

_Jim Beckett had arrived last night and had proved to be invaluable. The twins had taken the news very differently. Elijah, the eldest of the two boys by eight minutes, had tried to run away, and then shouted at them all, striking out violently at anyone who tried to touch him. Ezekiel – affectionately called Zeke – had continued to ask when his mom was coming home, no matter how many times they explained things to him. Last night had ended with the boys slamming their bedroom door and refusing dinner._

_Then there had been that awkward moment when they realised they would have to organise sleeping arrangements. The apartment only had the boys' room and Maggie's tiny closet of a room with a small twin bed, which Jim had offered to Beckett. Rick was planning to leave to check into a hotel and offered to take Jim, when Kate had calmly informed them that Jim would take Maggie's bed and she and Castle would share the fold-out sofa. Her father raised an eyebrow at that, causing Rick to swallow nervously, but the older man didn't comment as he made his way down the hall to Maggie's room._

_Rick had let out a sigh of relief, until he realised he would actually have to share a bed with Detective Kate Beckett. Then his mouth was dry, and his cheeks were flamed and his heart was about to burst through his chest._

_Kate had merely rolled her eyes and headed to the bathroom to change. "Don't get too excited, Writer Boy," she told him. Rick flushed further, but it was worth the embarrassment to get a smile from his muse after such a painful day._

_Richard Castle spent a very restless night trying desperately to avoid rolling into the sagging middle of the foldout and waking up with his hand somewhere unmentionable and Beckett's service pistol pointed threateningly in his direction._

_Needless to say, he did not get a lot of sleep. Fortunately when he did wake up, he still had all his limbs attached._

_Rick noticed that Kate didn't sleep much either. He knew she had a lot on her mind, but for once he thought it was better not to push her._

Rick jumped suddenly as his hand made contact with the hot water spewing from the faucet. He'd been so caught up in his memories he'd forgotten to shut the water off. He turned off the tap, and then started on the pile of dishes, the repetitive movements of washing feeling somehow soothing.

He thought back to this morning. The poor boys, walking up for the first morning without their mother. They had cried again, when they had realised it was real and their mother was really gone, but they had allowed Kate to hold them and ate some of the breakfast that Rick prepared.

Rick had never had a father, but then, he'd never known what he was missing. He thought that that seemed better than having had a loving parent, only to have them stolen from you. His mother was far from perfect, but he couldn't imagine his life without her.

After they had breakfast, Jim had taken Eli and Zeke to the park to distract them. Rick wasn't sure how successful it had been, but at least it meant the house was quiet so Beckett could make her thousand phone calls to the aforementioned funeral homes and priests and caterers. He was glad the boys didn't have to overhear their aunt making funeral arrangements for her mother. Rick had a hard enough time listening and he'd never even met Maggie.

It was so hard to stand by and listen to the pain in Kate's voice as she planned the service and the wake. Rick would have given anything to help, but he couldn't think of what to do that wasn't overstepping his place. So he just stood and felt useless. Then he tried to be useful by making dinner out of what he could find in the cupboard and fridge and when he looked up Beckett was looking at him from her position at the counter, bitting her lip, her pen poised over her list of jobs, and he suddenly wondered if it was ok to use the food. Should he have asked, before opening the cupboards?

_It know it's Maggie's stuff_, he thought, _but it's not like she needs it anymore. _

And wow he was really glad he hadn't said that out loud. He hadn't meant it to be that callous. But he couldn't seem to find the right thing to say. This was Beckett. She was more important to him than almost anyone else on Earth, and he just couldn't fix it. He couldn't even say the right thing. He just hovered around, and did the wrong thing and was utterly, completely, useless. Superfluous. Redundant. Unnecessary. Gratuitous. Purposeless.

Spare.

So now he was standing here, doing the dishes from the dinner he made that no one had really eaten (useless) and mentally berating himself.

Beckett came into the kitchen as he was washing out the empty sink. "Thank you, for today," Beckett said. His head snapped up from his contemplation of the swirling bubbles.

"Sorry?" he asked, because that made completely no sense.

"I know you don't think you helped, but you did. I –you – it just helped, having you here. I could keep it together. With you here." Now Beckett was the one staring at the sudsy remains in the bottom of the sink. Her cheeks were flushed. Rick wanted to kiss her.

That was happening a lot lately.

But her cousin had died thirty hours ago, and now didn't seem like the time.

"I'm a fixer," he told her instead. "And I can't…"he spread his arms wide "fix," he finished weakly, his arms falling limply to his sides in frustrated powerlessness.

"Sometimes you don't have to," Kate replied. "Sometimes just being here is…"she trailed off.

"Enough?" Rick supplied hopefully.

"More than enough," she corrected. "It's everything."

* * *

><p>After dinner, and wrestling the boys into a bath, which somehow resulted in Rick ending up wetter than the twins, they put the boys to bed. Just as they were leaving the room, Zeke spoke up.<p>

"Will mom be here when we wake up?" he asked in a small voice.

Before Rick could react, Eli shouted from the other bed. "She's dead, stupid! She's never coming back." Eli punctuated his statement by banging the wall with his fist and then rolled over so that his back was to them.

"Hey! We don't punch walls, and we don't speak to other people like that." Kate stated firmly.

Eli's only reply had been an aggressive snort. Zeke sobbed quietly.

"Who's going to live with us then? And take us to school and make dinner?" Zeke asked through his tears.

"We're going to sort that out," Kate replied hesitantly. Rick knew she didn't want to make promises to the boys she couldn't keep, but Rick had been wondering the same thing over the last twenty-four hours.

The doctor at the hospital had called Child Services, who had given the ok for the boys to stay with Kate and Jim for now, since they seemed to be their only remaining family. Rick thought Kate being a police officer had probably helped. Still, they were only allowed to keep the boys while they made funeral plans, after which time a more permanent arrangement would have to be made. Rick didn't know what would happen then.

He and Kate finally settled the boys in bed, and went out to the lounge. Jim had just made coffee, and the three of them sat down at the small table with a weary sigh.

Jim asked how the funeral planning had gone while he had taken the boys to the park and Kate took him through the decisions she had made with the pastor. Rick half-listened, his mind still on Zeke's questions. He tried to bring up care of the boys earlier, but Kate had deftly changed the subject. Now he wondered why she was avoiding the issue. He wanted to know what she was thinking, but he knew from past (and painful) experience that pushing her would not get him anywhere. He knew that whatever he decided, he was with her one hundred per cent, and that was enough for him.

Finally, they headed to bed, Jim heading down the hall to Maggie's little room, and Rick and Kate settling into the foldout. Rick lay still for a long time, staring at the fuzzy ceiling above him, wondering what Kate was thinking. He heard a noise in the hall at one stage and thought maybe the boys had woken up, but the lounge stayed empty of all but the writer and the detective, lying in silence and trying desperately not to touch on the tiny sofa. Kate's body was tense beside his, and he longed to find some way to lift the heavy burdens off her shoulders.

He looked over at her fuzzy outline in the darkness.

"Kate," he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"No," she replied.

"Ok."

There was silence for a long moment, broken only by the sound of a car passing on the street outside. Rick watched the soft movement of Kate's shoulders as she breathed.

"Oh, fine," Kate said, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "I can hear you staring at me. Spit it out already."

The darkness made him bold. He thought of Zeke. "Who _is_ going to live with the boys? And take them to school and make dinner?"

There was silence for a long moment. Rick had just decided that she wasn't going to answer, when Kate's voice emerged in the darkness. "I want them, Castle. So badly it hurts. But Child Services isn't going to give me those boys. They might have ok'd the emergency form so that I can take care of them for the next couple of day, but they aren't going to see me as a long term solution, Castle, you know that." Her tone with angry and defensive. He hoped it wasn't directed at him.

"Do you want them to?" he asked.

He felt a gush of wind on his cheek as she sighed. "Yes," she whispered. "I don't know if that's the right thing. And I don't know that I can be a mom. But everything in me wants those boys." She paused. "But it's not going to happen," she finished, the anger creeping back into her tone.

"Why not?" he whispered back.

"Tell me why Child Services would give me the boys," she snapped back. "I'm homeless. I'm broke. I'm single, and my only support is my dad who lives hours away. I work huge hours in a job so dangerous I can't even guarantee I'll come home at all, let alone in time to tuck them into bed. I have no idea how to raise a child."

He took a risk. "Ok, if that's the story you want to tell them," he replied.

"You're the writer. Show me the story of how anyone in their right mind would let me have these children." Her words were harsh, but he could hear the longing in her voice. He could hear what she was really saying. Show me how to make this right.

He hesitated, wanting so desperately to do the right thing, and being terrified that he didn't even know what the right thing was. This was his chance.

Richard Castle was a fixer.

And he had just found a way to make this right.

It was a big step. If he said this, admitted what he so desperately wanted out aloud, it would make it real. She would know. History had shown him if you put yourself out there, put that great big bubble of your hopes and dreams out there, it could burst.

But if he didn't…

Rick didn't always want to wonder what if.

"Why would someone give you those kids? Because you love those boys desperately. You've never been in trouble with the law, you're in top physical and emotional health and you have a good support network of friends and family. Yes, the job you have is dangerous, but you take every precaution to reduce those risks. And maybe you don't have experience raising young children, but I've seen the way you are with Alexis, and you are going to be an amazing mom someday. And that could be today."

Even through the darkness he could see that she was looking down, not making eye contact. It wasn't enough. But he was her favourite writer for a reason. He had to spin her a story. It was time to put his cards on the table.

He took a deep breath and put it all on the line.

"Ok then. Here's the story: you moved in with your partner six months ago. It's a secure building, in a safe neighbourhood with plenty of room. He's got more money than he knows what to do with, and is just looking for an excuse to spoil you and the boys. What's more, he has flexible hours and the ability to work from home, so he can pick the kids up from school or look after them when you can't. You're already raising his daughter together, and he's a hundred per cent committed to the partnership."

The silence that greeted that pronouncement was so loud he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. (And it didn't sound too healthy. Perhaps he should lay off the bear claws.)

Just when he thought he'd blown it, a quiet word emerged from the detective at his side.

"Why?" she whispered.

He suddenly felt like the most inadequate writer on the planet, as he struggled to come up with a way to express what she meant to him, what he would do for her. "Because you're my partner. Because you're my best friend. Because on Saturday mornings you practice French with Alexis. Because those boys just went through hell and even though I only just met them, I think I love them already. Because-" he trailed off and his hands went wide as he shrugged, and he knew that she would understand that he was trying to say there were a million more reasons he could even put into words.

There was a long silence from the detective, and he began to worry that he'd just laid his heart on the line and she wasn't going to respond. Maybe she didn't want his help. He knew she thought he was a good father. But that didn't mean that she wanted to raise kids with him. Maybe she wanted to do it alone, and he'd over stepped the mark by trying to fix everything again.

Oh, God. Maybe this was her mother's case all over again. But she wouldn't be so cruel as to stop speaking to him again, right?

He was so caught up in his fears, it took him a moment to realise that she was speaking again.

"Maggie was my idol, you know," Beckett whispered. "She was probably what you'd politely call the wild child of the family when we were growing up. She had her belly button pierced and a boyfriend and a fake ID, and when I was fifteen I wanted to be her so badly."

In the darkness, Rick thought he could make out a smile on the detective's face. "I remember one time when we were at the lake for the summer, Mags taking this tablet one morning, and then I realised she was on the Pill. She said, "shit, better not forget that," and winked at me. She seemed so, sophisticated, you know? Taking the Pill, sleeping with boys, riding on motorbikes. And even though I was two years younger than her she never treated me like a kid, when everyone else did."

Rick tried to picture a younger Beckett, wide-eyed, in awe of her cool cousin. But he'd spent so long being in awe of Beckett, that the idea of her being intimidated by anyone seemed ridiculous.

"But then she got a little too wild, I guess. She went to college, but she got into drugs and a bad crowd and dropped out. She did time for possession, and you know, once you have that record…" she trailed off.

Rick thought of all the times Beckett had given someone a second chance. All the times he had come to her with a crazy theory and she had listened. Like she wanted to believe the best in people. He wondered if Maggie had given her that.

"I tried to help her, but I was so lost in losing Mom. I couldn't even take care of myself back then." She paused and looked at the ceiling for a long moment. Rick found his hand moving automatically to run soothingly through her hair. He realised what he was doing a second later and his hand froze, his whole body tensing as he waited for her reaction.

She didn't say anything, but she seemed to melt further into his side, her head turning to rest on the top of his chest. His hand continued its slow strokes over her hair. He wondered how many times he had dreamed of this, Kate cuddled into his side in bed. There was nothing sexual about the moment, yet somehow it surpassed every daydream he had ever had about the two of them.

"I miss her so much," she whispered.

"I know," he whispered back, his hand still stroking through her hair.

"Will you always be there?" she asked, her voice thready and vulnerable in the darkness.

"As long as it is in my power," he replied. "Always."

"We could do this together?"

"I'd be honoured," he answered.

She didn't speak again, but he continued his slow movements, waiting for the feeling of her body relaxing, her breathing evening out.

"You get all that?" he asked.

There was a moment of silence, and then Jim Beckett emerged sheepishly from the doorway. "You knew I was there?"

"Kate didn't get her stealth from you, I'm afraid," Rick replied.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – it's just – I wasn't there for her last time. When Jo… No one was there for her. When I – after – when I got sober, I vowed that would never happen again." From the dim light that came in around the edge of the curtains at the window, Rick could see Jim nod slightly, but he couldn't make out the older man's facial expression. "Now I know it won't."

Rick tried to work out what he meant, but Jim continued before he could ask. "She's got you this time," Jim said. "And I reckon you're not going anywhere." With that, the older man withdrew through the doorway and returned to Maggie's room.

There was a chuckle from the mass of blankets snuggled up against his chest. Of course, Super!Ninja detectives didn't sleep through midnight conversations right next to them. Not to mention the fact that this particular detective had an in-built radar for anything in a 100 mile radius that might be potentially embarrassing to her plucky author sidekick.

"Reckon you've got me huh?" he asked the soft brown hair peeking out from the blankets.

"Yep," came the reply, popping on the 'p' sound, and Rick could hear the smile in her voice. A hand emerged from the blankets and pulled him down from his half sitting position to lie fully on the bed. "Now go to sleep. You're on pancake duty in the morning, and those boys wake up early."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. Sorry this chapter is so short. The good news is the next one is pretty much done and should be up in the next couple of days to make up for the brevity of this one.

Thanks for reading!

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><p>When Rick woke the next morning, there was a beam of sunlight directly in his eyes, a broken spring digging into his spine, an elbow in his sternum, a torso lying directly across his stomach, pushing on his (very full) bladder and the heavy knowledge that his best friend had just lost a close family member weighing down his heart.<p>

But that elbow and that torso belonged to the most extraordinary woman in the world, who had just last night agreed to share her life, and the care of two young boys, with him.

So it was a pretty damn good morning, over all.

He extracted himself from Beckett's clutches and tried to move off the bed. Beckett moaned a little in protest and moved to pull him closer.

Which would have been very pleasant, if it hadn't meant that the elbow that was poking him in the sternum, was now resting on top of his (still very full) bladder.

"Bathroom," he whispered to her, sliding from her arms.

She blinked up at him, looking half asleep and fully adorable. "kay," she muttered, eyes closing again.

He grabbed some clean clothes from his bag, figuring he may as well get in a shower before the boys woke up. He poked his head into their room on the way to the bathroom. The two boys were sleeping in one bed, most of the blankets hanging off the side of the bed. He smiled sadly, devastated they had to go through this, but glad they had each other.

When he emerged from the shower and made his way back to the lounge, Beckett was already up.

"Morning," she greeted him, pouring him a large mug of coffee.

He took the mug, inhaling deeply. "Ah, coffee," he signed. "How you complete me," he whispered to the dark liquid.

Kate raised an eyebrow at him, picking up her own mug from the counter.

For a moment they just stayed there, Rick leaning against one bench with Beckett mirroring his pose against the opposite counter. There was a certain…domestic atmosphere, Rick supposed you'd call it. Just two people at peace with each other, who didn't need to speak.

Kate finished her coffee and took her turn in the shower. Rick folded the blankets from the sofa-bed and folded it back into a couch for the day. When Kate emerged from the bathroom, towelling her wet hair, she looked nervous.

Rick paused, waiting for her to bring up whatever was wrong. But patience had never been his strong suit, so after a few minutes of awkward silence and avoiding eye contact, he asked her what was up.

"I just-" Kate started, then paused and started again. "Last night…I mean, are you sure?"

Rick decided now wasn't the time for one of his wise cracks. "That I want you and the boys to move into the loft, and to share custody with you? Absolutely." To be honest, he was a little offended she'd had to ask. Rick was not a man who broke promises.

"I wasn't doubting you," Kate replied, picking up on his tone. "This is a big thing. We're going to be parents together. I should get the ball rolling with Child Services today. I just want you to be sure. I want us _both_ to be sure."

"I'm sure," he told her. He paused. "Are _you_ sure?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "I'm scared as hell. But I know if I could pick any person in the world to do this with, it would be you."

He couldn't help the smile that spread over his face. "Thank you," he murmured.

"I guess the next thing we need to do is ask if it's ok with Alexis. She's a big part of this too," Kate continued.

He didn't think it was possible, but he fell a little more in love with her in that moment.

Rick checked his watch, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. Alexis would be up now, getting ready for school.

Kate glanced down the hall to the boys' room, and then she grabbed his hand, tugging him out through the front door. They sat together side-by-side on the front step, and he put the phone on speaker as he hit speed dial one.

"Hi dad," said Alexis' sunny voice.

"Hey, honey," he replied, smiling at just the thought of her.

"Hey, 'Lex," said Kate from beside him.

"Kate! It's really good to hear from you. I'm so sorry about your cousin."

"Thanks 'Lex," the detective replied, a bittersweet smile on her face.

"Are you ok? Is there anything I can do?"

"Well kind of," Rick broke in. "We have something to ask you."

"Wait," Kate interrupted. "Alexis, we want to talk to you about something, but I want you to know that you can say no, and it is not going to change how much your Dad and I love you. This is a big deal and your opinion is really important to us. But the only way we can be happy is if you're honest about how you really feel, ok? Don't just tell us what you think we want to hear."

"Ok," said Alexis, and her voice was curious and a little fearful.

"You know that Maggie had two boys, right?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, Elijah and Ezekiel. Kate has a picture of them and Maggie in her room."

"Well, their dad has been around about as much as mine was," Rick said with a humourless laugh. "They don't really have any other family-"

"Oh! Are they going to come and live with us?" Alexis interrupted. "I'll help take care of them! I mean, after school and on weekends and stuff. I could teach them laser tag! And take them to the basketball court. Do they like reading? I still have heaps of books from when I was a kid."

Rick's heart could burst with pride. Of course his wonderful, kind daughter would think instantly of helping another in need.

"How about we start with applying for custody?" he said.

"Oh!" said Alexis, and Rick could picture the blush on her cheeks. "I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

"You're just enthusiastic," he replied. "So you won't mind? If Kate and the boys move permanently into the loft? It will be a lot more crowded with more people, and we may need your help with the boys."

"Dad, their mum just died. I think what you and Kate are doing is amazing. Of course I don't mind."

Kate exhaled hard from beside him. He wondered if she'd been holding her breath. "Thank you, Alexis," she said quietly.

"How's school going? Is mother taking good care of you?" Rick asked.

"I'm fine, dad," said Alexis in exasperation. "Everything is fine."

"What? It's a father prerogative to worry," Castle justified.

Alexis scoffed, but Beckett was smiling up at him, and the look on her face said '_you're a good father'_ better than any words.

They spoke for a few more minutes, Alexis filling them in on what was happening at school and life at the loft. It was a pleasant distraction, to remember that life went on.

When they returned to the house five minutes later, the twins were awake, sitting on the couch and watching some cartoon character with spiky black hair and a monkey side-kick who apparently possessed a magical belt.

_Finally_, Rick thought. _A good excuse to watch quality programming in the morning._


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks for all the reviews and support!**

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><p>Another long day, that Kate absolutely never wanted to re-live. Talking to Alexis that morning, hearing her enthusiasm to take care of the boys had been perhaps the brightest moment of these last few dark days.<p>

But then they had spent the day dealing with twin seven year olds who had just had their worlds turned upside down. She'd had to deal with Eli's anger, and Zeke's denial as he worked himself up more and more demanding that they bring his mother back.

Then she spent the afternoon planning the finishing touches of beautiful, vivacious cousin's funeral, and it was all too much, and it was just too hard, and she never, ever wanted to re-live another day like today.

"I'm dying first," she told Castle as they climbed into bed on the small fold-out sofa.

"What?" he asked, looking concerned.

"I am categorically not doing this again. It's too hard," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't go through this. It hurts too much. So I'm dying first."

Yeah, she was probably revealing too much because she was tired and broken and her guard was down. But these had been some of the hardest days of her life, and the idea of having to plan Rick's funeral, even if it was forty years down the line, was far too painful to even consider.

Even if the idea that she was considering 'forty years down the line' was pretty terrifying.

Castle didn't say anything, but he did pull her into his arms on the fold-out. For once, she let herself be comforted. Resting her head on his chest, she was lulled to sleep by the stead thump of his heart.

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><p>Kate had always been a light sleeper, and a decade as a cop had certainly not improved things. So the soft padding of tiny feet on the hallway carpet was enough to wake her.<p>

She lay still for a moment, giving her eyes time to adjust to the darkness. There was a street light just outside the apartment, and enough muted light slid in around the edges of the curtains that she could made out the shape of the room as a small body snuck into the lounge.

She had enough trouble telling them apart in the day time, so she couldn't do more than discern it was one of the twins, a blanket clutched tightly in his hand. She remembered the blanket from when the twins were little; they had each had one that they carried everywhere. She had thought they had outgrown that now though.

Kate waited as Eli-or-Zeke made his way over to Castle's side of the fold-out. Although 'side' was a relative thing. The old fold-out dipped in the middle like a saggy banana and no matter how many times she tried to move to the edge, gravity had her rolling back into the middle within minutes. She had resigned herself to sleeping with Castle in one giant collection of interwoven limbs…wow did that sound wrong. There was no interwoven-ness! They were just… _intertwined?_ her mind suggested. _Fused? Joined?_

Tangled! Gah, they were tangled. There was nothing suggestive about tangles, right?

Except that internal voice that sounded suspiciously like Castle was crooning seductively about limbs tangling in the heat of passion –

She grabbed her internal-Castle voice by the ear and shoved him firmly in a holding cell.

A soundproof holding cell.

She was not having sexy-Castle internal monologue with a seven year old in the room.

(Sexy-Castle internal monologue tried to ask if that meant she would be more open to entangled limbs when there wasn't an elementary student present. Internal-voice-Kate went into the neighbouring soundproof holding cell and screamed in frustration.)

Real-life-Castle suddenly stiffened beside her. Kate had a moment of panic – _Oh God, he really can read minds!_ – before she realised it was just Zeke-or-Eli's scuffing footsteps and intense staring that had woken him.

"Hey buddy," Castle whispered, his voice still gravelly from sleep. "Can't sleep?"

Eli-or-Zeke nodded. He was holding the edge of his blanket in both hands in front of his mouth, his face almost buried in it.

"Well I'm glad you came here. I was having a bad dream." Castle continued.

Zeke-or-Eli looked up from the blanket slightly. "Really?" he asked.

"Yep," said Castle. "There was a waffle trying to eat me. It was horrible."

Eli-or-Zeke giggled.

"What?" said Castle, sounding affronted. "I don't know if you've ever been eaten by a giant waffle before, but it's not pleasant. In fact, maybe you could stay with me tonight? I don't think I'll be able to sleep by myself."

Zeke-or-Eli seemed to consider this. He looked longingly at the bed, but said, "you're not by yourself. Aunty Kate is here."

"Yeah," Castle agreed, and Kate could tell he was scrambling for an excuse. "But – uh – Aunty Kate is a _girl_," he pointed out.

Kate dug an elbow into his side in annoyance. Had the man even heard of woman's lib? Castle inhaled sharply at the nudge.

But Eli-or-Zeke seemed to accept this excuse and nodded sagely, moving toward the edge of the fold out.

Castle lifted the edge of the blanket on his side, allowing the kid to move onto the bed. There was a moment of jostling as they tried to find a comfortable position, and then the inevitable roll into the sagging middle of the bed.

Ten minutes later, when the second twin emerged sheepishly from the hallway, Kate merely lifted the blanket on her side and let him climb in.

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><p>Jim Beckett awoke early on the day they buried his niece.<p>

He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the white ceiling above, his thoughts drifting.

Jim was the first to admit he had got a lot of things wrong in his lifetime. He didn't think he could ever forgive himself for his actions after Jo had died. The way he had become so caught up in himself and abandoned Katie like that. He figured when he got to Heaven, his wife was going to kick his ass for that. Which would be completely justified.

He would give anything to go back and change what had happened. But he had learnt long ago that regrets just led to repetition. He had made amends were he could; he had handed over control to a higher power and humbly asked Him to remove his shortcomings. And he would spend the rest of his days doing His will.

But Jim Beckett had also learned that the best things could come out of the very worst.

He thought of his niece, Margaret, who had been so caught up in the world of drugs and booze and no responsibilities. Jim had wondered how she had felt when she found out she was pregnant. He wondered if she had ever considered abortion.

Yet out of such terrible circumstances had come two amazing boys.

Way back when Maggie had first starting going to Narcotics Anonymous, Jim thought she was crazy. She had come to his place when the boys were just babies to try make amends and to try and convince him to quit drinking and join the AA program.

At the time Jim hadn't been the slightest bit interested in hearing that do-gooder crap. But even through his drunken haze he had noticed something different about Maggie. There was a joy, a kind of peaceful radiance about her that he had never seen before.

It had struck in his mind even years later, when this time he was the one making amends and asking forgiveness.

In all likelihood if Maggie hadn't gotten pregnant she would have died years ago from the drugs. He knew it had been far from easy for her to overcome her addiction and the world's prejudice to raise two boys alone. But out of such a horrible situation had come two of the most precious gifts that Jim could imagine, and he knew that Maggie would never have been able to regret even a moment that lead to them.

From the NA program, Maggie had got into church in a big way. She told him that just knowing there was a higher purpose helped her stay on track. Even the meanings of the boys' names, Elijah – my God is the Lord – and Ezekiel – God will strengthen – were affirmations of the faith that had given her the strength to carry on.

Something beautiful from the harshest of circumstances.

Jim just knew God had a sense of humour.

It was true for Katie too. Jo's death had been a senseless tragedy. The pain still took his breath away each time he thought of it. And yet out of that had come New York's finest detective. Jim would give anything to bring Jo back, but it was a comfort to know that there were a lot of families who could rest easy because Kate had been there to bring a killer to justice. And she might have never gone down that path if Jo hadn't died in those most horrible of circumstances.

It might not be fair. But sometimes you had to go through the dark of midnight to truly appreciate the brilliance of the dawn.

So Jim got up from Maggie's small twin bed, and started the morning the same way he started every day. He dressed, and then ran his fingers over the smooth metal of his sobriety pin. As every morning, he prayed silently. _God, give me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, Courage to change the things which should be changed, and the Wisdom to distinguish the one from the other._

He placed his sobriety pin carefully in his pocket, ready to hold onto when he needed a steady reminder of how far he had come, and his promise to never slip back.

Stretching out the cramps from a night of sleeping on Maggie's tiny twin bed, he made his way out to the main room of the apartment. As he made his way through the doorway he paused.

There on the fold out sofa was his sleeping daughter, her head resting on the chest of the man who Jim was reasonably sure was wholly in love with her. The fold out sagged heavily in the middle from the weight of the two adults, who were squashed together in a tiny space, Katie basically lying on top of Rick. The writer and the detective were framed on either side by an identical twin spread to take up a good third of the entire bed.

Jim looked at Rick, who was sleeping on his back with one arm around Katie, a hand resting in the small of her back as though he had been holding her to him when they fell asleep. The twin lying next to Kate had one hand thrown out toward her, his fingers meeting Rick's arm where it lay on Kate's back. The second twin on Rick's side had his back against the writer's, his hands curled under his chin. With the sunlight streaming in through the gaps around the edge of the curtains they seemed a picture of a contented family.

It gave him hope for a moment, that even from this horror, someday something good could come.

He didn't know what would happen in the future. Jim had thought about taking in the boys, but he knew that at his age he would have trouble keeping up with them. Not to mention he didn't like his chances of gaining custody of two kids as a recovering alcoholic. He remembered how expensive Katie had been at that age, growing like a weed, and eating like a horse. And there had only been one of her. He didn't think he could afford to take care of two boys with his current finances.

But after overhearing their discussion the other night, Jim hadn't been surprised with Katie had said that she and Rick were putting in a joint application for custody of the boys. He hoped that they were making the right decision.

He was pretty sure that if Maggie could pick, she would want Katie raising the boys. They had always been so alike. He remembered watching them grow up, the summers when they would head out to his brother's place on the lake and the two girls would spend every minute together. He thought of their matching mischievous grins when they were up to something, the twinkle in their eyes when they asked for second helpings of ice cream after dinner.

Their lives had taken very different paths, but when you got to the down to the important things, both girls had a heart of gold. And Jim knew that Kate was going to be an amazing mom one day, just like Maggie had been.

Taking on two seven year olds would be a strain on any relationship, and Jim couldn't help but worry about Rick and Kate. Even if they claimed to be 'just friends', Jim knew love when he saw it. He had been a bit hostile toward Rick initially – he liked the man's books, but given his playboy reputation, Jim wasn't so sure how close he wanted the writer too close to his daughter. For all her denials, Jim could tell that his daughter was not unaffected by her new, handsome shadow.

But then he had seen the way Rick looked at Kate. There was a devotion in the young man's eyes. A steadfastness. Jim had seen many men and boys look at his daughter over the years.

Some looked at her body, though Kate had the good sense to steer clear of them. Some wore her on their arm like a prize, proud to show her off. They never lasted long.

Some looked at Kate like she was something precious and delicate, and while Jim knew that they loved her, Kate could never be swaddled and protected. Kate had built herself through pain, and was strong as iron.

But the way that Rick looked at Kate – like he couldn't believe this strong, extraordinary woman was giving him the time of day – reassured him. Jim had worn that look, every time he saw wife. He knew that, like himself, Rick would spend his days trying to be worthy of the woman by his side.

If they did get custody of the boys, they had a rough time ahead of them. Jim fingered his sobriety pin one more time. He pictured his beautiful faces of his wife and niece, looking down on them. "I'll help them," he promised. "None of them will be alone."

His gaze fell again on his daughter, surrounded by the people she loved. Soon enough they would awake to one of the hardest days of their life. For now, Jim took a seat to the kitchen counter, and remembered the words of Winston Churchill. "Kites rise highest against the wind," he whispered to the silent room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the delay getting this one out. I'm kind of proud of this chapter, so let me know what you think if you've got a minute. Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter too.

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><p>The church was a beautiful stone building, with long wooden pews. The pastor had held Kate's hand in both of his when the met two days ago, and he seemed genuinely sincere when he expressed his condolences. He had guided her through the funeral planning with ease. Maggie had been attending the church since she and boys had moved here, and the pastor had told them how much Maggie had enjoyed coming to services and had shared stories of the boys terrorising their Sunday school teachers with endless questions. He wasn't surprised to hear that Kate was a detective. "Maybe they get their inquisitiveness from you," he had said with a warm smile.<p>

With the help of the pastor and a few of the ladies who had been friends with Maggie, they had been able to plan a fitting goodbye to her cousin.

But as the car pulled up before the church all Kate could think of what that it wasn't fair they had to say goodbye at all.

Her dad and Castle had got the unusually subdued twins through breakfast and getting dressed this morning. Kate had been in such a daze, she couldn't recall any of it.

As they got out of the car, Kate looked over at Eli and Zeke. The black pants the twins were wearing were their only formal wear, and Kate hadn't noticed until this morning that – despite being in good condition – they were obviously not new. The pants ended a good two inches above their ankles.

"Kids grow like a weed at that age," Castle had assured her. "No one will be looking at their ankles." Kate had dropped the subject, but she felt like a bad parent. Not that she was a parent. She was a 'temporary guardian under appointment by the state'. Things with child services had only gotten more confusing over the last two days and she had no idea what would happen in the long run. She had been granted emergency care of the boys until they could get through the funeral, and the reading of the will and sorting Maggie's estate. She and Castle had applied for joint guardianship of the boys – something that still her heart flop and nervous butterflies explode in her stomach – but they hadn't heard back from Child Services yet.

Still, on this day of all days, those two inches of bare ankle poking out of the bottom of the boys' pants felt like failure. Even as they left the car, she couldn't help looking around to make sure on one was looking at the boys' pants. She knew it wasn't rational, fixating on this one insignificant detail, but it kept the pain of thinking about everything else a bay, and so she clung to it like a lifeline.

Kate couldn't bear to talk to all the people gathered in the church, so they arrived just as the service was due to start and made their way through the almost deserted vestibule to the crowded church. The boys fell in beside her as she walked up the aisle, Castle just behind her right shoulder, her father slightly behind him. But as she got closer to the front of the room, she realised there was one thing she hadn't thought of.

The front pew.

That was where the family sat, of course. But she couldn't sit there, on show to the whole church. The last time she sat in the front row of pews in a church her mother's body was ten feet away. She couldn't do that again. Be the chief mourner. Have everyone stare.

Her feet had frozen two rows back from the front of the church. She willed them to move, told herself it didn't matter. It was utterly ridiculous, but she just couldn't do it. The boys stopped beside her, then Rick and her father. They blocked the entire aisle, a still rock in a stream of black, forcing the other mourners to back up as they tried to move around the impediment.

She stared at the smooth wood of the front pew, felt the eyes of the congregation upon her, waited for the whispering to start. She willed herself forward, but her knees were locked. _Stop making a scene_, she screamed internally.

Then there was a hand on her hip, and she knew from the gentle weight and warm rush of _safe_ that flowed from the point of contact that it was Castle, even though she couldn't tear her eyes from the mocking sheen of the sharply polished wood. He didn't say a word, but there was the barest hint of pressure from his fingers, and she obeyed without even consciously thinking of the command, as Castle ushered them into the second row pew.

She glanced up at him as they sat down, feeling guilty about her insecurities, hating herself for not being stronger. And in one glance he told her that he understood, that she didn't love her cousin less for not sitting in the front row, that no one would think less of her. Kate knew that if Castle could understand, then Maggie surely would, and she felt peace.

Whatever anyone else thought about them sitting in the second row of pews in too short trousers, the people she loved would understand, and that was all that mattered.

She sat beside Castle, the boys beside her and then her father sitting on the other end of the pew, by the aisle. The pastor came down through the pews and moved to the front to begin the service. She tried to focus on his words, but they flowed around her, a melody she couldn't quite pick up. Instead, Kate started at the front of the church and tried to focus on the beautiful flowers on the altar and not the coffin just to the right of it.

"Mom's in that box, isn't she?" Eli asked quietly.

Kate's heart broke.

Jim Beckett lent down to the boy's level. "Yes," he said, blinking back tears, his voice raw with emotion. His honesty was painful, but there was no way any of them would lie to two orphaned little boys.

"She's really not coming back," said Zeke and for the first time it wasn't a question. Still, Kate could see the hope on his face, like he was waiting for someone to tell him there had been a horrible mistake, and everything was going to be ok. Kate knew that look. She'd worn it for months after her mother died.

"No, buddy," said Jim. "She can't come back."

They started crying again. Zeke turned and burrowed into Kate's side. She pulled him up onto her lap and he buried his heard in her chest, her right hand falling to rub his back in long smooth strokes. Beside her, she saw her dad pull Eli up onto his lap.

The pastor kept speaking. Then the music started, and she tried to sing because it was Maggie's favourite but her voice broke on the first note, and her tongue was a lead weight in her mouth and nothing came out. But Castle saw her struggle – Castle _always_ saw her struggle, even when she didn't want him to – and started singing from beside her. She leant into his side, grateful.

Anne, the mother who held the sleepover party that the boys had been staying at and who was apparently one of Maggie's best friends stood up to give a reading. "This was Maggie's favourite prayer," she said through tears.

_"God, give us grace to accept with serenity_

_the things that cannot be changed,_

_Courage to change the things_

_which should be changed,_

_and the Wisdom to distinguish_

_the one from the other._

_Living one day at a time,_

_Enjoying one moment at a time,_

_Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,_

_Taking, as Jesus did,_

_This sinful world as it is,_

_Not as I would have it,_

_Trusting that You will make all things right,_

_If I surrender to Your will,_

_So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,_

_And supremely happy with You forever in the next._

_Amen."_

Kate recognised the AA prayer and knew how it had resonated with both her father and her cousin as they battled their addictions. _Living one day at a time,_ Kate thought. Give the pain that felt like it was tearing her heart in two and her complete uncertainty about the future, it sounded like all she could manage right now.

She was brought back to reality when her father stood. Kate had been apprehensive when he said he wanted to deliver the eulogy, but he looked solid and determined as he stood in the pews. Jim gathered up Eli from his lap as he rose, and reached past Kate awkwardly to place Eli in Castle's lap. Eli looked at her for a second, his red rimmed eyes a silent testimony to his pain, and then buried his head in Castle's chest, a mirror of Zeke's position on her own lap. Beside her, Jim made his way to the small lectern at the front of the church.

Castle moved slightly to adjust Eli's weight and his kneecap hit the wood of the pew in front of them, the crack of bone on wood resonant in the silent church. Kate reached out unconsciously to rub it for him.

It was inbuilt in her now. Castle was hurt. She would automatically reach out to comfort him in any way possible, even something as small as a bumped knee. It was exactly what he had been doing for her the last few days. She was hurt. And Castle had reached out instinctively to do anything he could to ease her pain.

She wished she knew how to thank him for that.

Though somehow she thought he knew without her saying a word.

At the front of the church her father started speaking, his voice strong as he shared stories of his niece. In the second pew, Castle reached his free hand down to where hers sat on his knee and wove their fingers together. And the dull roar of pain in her chest eased, just a little.

The rest of the service passed in a blur, until Castle was sliding Eli off his lap then walking with her father up to where the coffin was draped in flowers at the front of the church. Kate watched Castle and Jim greeted the other pallbearers silently, and then together lifted the coffin.

Kate took one of the boys' hands in each of hers and moved to follow the procession out. As she moved down the aisle she saw a flash of red in a pew near the back. Looking closer, she realised it was Martha and Alexis sitting together. Beside them in the pew was Lanie, and then Esposito and Ryan.

She gave them all a nod of acknowledgement, and the closest thing to a smile she could manage. She hadn't been expecting to see them, but she felt a rush of warmth at their show of support.

* * *

><p>Maggie's friend Anne had come through again, offering to host the wake at her house. Kate was relieved. Her cousin had been very loved in the community, and there was no way they could fit all these people in Maggie's tiny apartment.<p>

Kate stopped abruptly on the pavement outside of Anne's house. She had just caught sight of a couple entering the house, a casserole dish in hand.

She looked to Castle suddenly. "We should have brought something," she said. "Anne's hosting the whole wake, and I completely forgot to bring anything."

Castle looked sheepish. "It's fine," he demurred, not quite making eye contact.

She knew that look. "Castle," she said, "what did you do?"

"I paid for catering," Castle admitted. He looked worried she would be mad.

Kate exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Rick." He was a good man, she thought. It was the little things like this that reminded her of that.

Anne hugged them as they entered the house. There were already a lot of people gathered around. They looked friendly enough, but Kate couldn't help but feel that they were on show.

"Hi boys," said Anne, greeting the twins. "Tom is out in the yard if you want to go and hang out with him?"

Eli and Zeke looked up at Kate for permission. She nodded, and the boys disappeared though a doorway, obviously familiar with the house from previous visits. Kate was grateful they could get away and have a bit of time to themselves. It had been a big day for all of them.

Castle left a moment later to use the bathroom. It was the first time he'd left her side all day, and Kate felt suddenly incredibly vulnerable.

Jim indicated a table in the corner with drinks spread upon it. "How about we get some coffee?" he suggested.

Kate smiled at him, grateful for a task to distract herself. They made their way to the table, Kate automatically fixing a coffee for Castle as she made her own. She was just finished when she heard the writer's voice from beside her.

"Look who I found," Castle said.

Kate turned, seeing Castle standing with his daughter, Martha and the team from the 12th gathered behind them.

"Kate!" said Alexis, breaking away from her father and coming over to the detective. Kate wrapped her up in a hug.

"It's so good to see you, Lex," Kate whispered, hugging the younger girl tight.

"I'm so sorry about Maggie, Kate. She sounds like an amazing person. I would have liked to meet her." Alexis replied, looking at Kate with tears in her eyes.

"Thanks," Kate replied around the lump in her throat. "She would have loved you."

As Alexis moved away, Martha came over to hug Kate. "How are you holding up, kiddo?"

Kate tried to reassure them that she was fine, but all she could do was nod.

"It's horrible, and it's unfair," Martha said. "But we are all here for you, anytime you need."

Kate nodded again, moved beyond words as Espo, Lanie and Ryan nodded from behind Martha. Then Castle was at her side, his hand resting gently on Kate's back. "Thank you," he said to everyone. "And thank you all for coming up today, it means a lot."

Kate turned back to the drinks table for a moment, turning away so that the others couldn't see the tears in her eyes. She reached for the two coffee mugs, automatically handing Castle's coffee off to him.

Lanie and Martha moved forward to make some coffee for themselves, and soon everyone was talking quietly. Kate spoke little, but was content to stand with her friends, feeling their support.

As more people arrived for the wake, the room became crowded and Kate made an escape to the kitchen. But there were even more people in there, women gathered together talking about Maggie. She caught sight of the back door in the kitchen and slipped through it.

The twins were in the yard with a blond boy who must be Anne's son Tom. Kate stood by the back door and watched them. Her thoughts wandered to the all the application forms she and Castle had completed for Child Services. Would they get custody? What would she do if they didn't and the boys were placed in foster care?

What would she do if they did get custody? She was glad Castle was with her on this, but what would she do if he left? She worked so many hours, and couldn't afford to pay someone to look after the boys while she was at work.

How had Maggie done it?

God, she missed her cousin.

The back door opened again, and Kate assumed Castle had come out to join her. A moment later she heard soft footsteps and realised instantly that it wasn't Castle's gait. She looked over her shoulder to see Lanie walking over to her.

"Hey girl," said Lanie. The medical examiner stood next to her, and looked over at the boys in the yard. She indicated the twins. "They the boys?" she asked.

Kate managed a smile. "Zeke and Eli," she replied, pointing at each twin in turn.

"They look like you," Lanie observed.

"They look just like Maggie," Kate replied. "But everyone used to say we looked like sisters, growing up." She sighed.

"What happens now?" Lanie asked.

Kate felt her insides tied in knots. If they got the boys, everyone would have to know eventually. If they didn't get the boys – that wasn't something she could even contemplate. If they didn't get the boys, life was a black void, and who cared what anyone else thought.

Kate kept her eyes on the boys in the distance. "Castle and I applied for joint custody," she said.

She waited for a response from her friend. She waited for Lanie to finally put a voice to Kate's fears – to point out the craziness of applying for joint custody of two boys with a bed-hopping playboy celebrity she wasn't even in a relationship with, to point out Kate's lack of anything resembling a maternal instinct. But the medical examiner was silent beside her.

Finally, Kate mustered the courage to look at the woman beside her.

"What?" asked Lanie. "If you're waiting for me to tell you this is a bad idea, you're not going to hear it. This will be the toughest thing you've ever done. And I hope for your sake that Castle will stick by you and pull his weight. But you're my best friend. And I will be there for you one hundred per cent." She paused, and locked eyes with the detective. "This is the right thing, Kate."

Kate let out a breath that she didn't realise she'd be holding. "What if Child Services says no, Lanie? What if they go into care?"

"They'll say yes, Kate. I had to deal with Child Services a bit, back in med school, and you are everything they could wish for for these boys. And if they say no, Castle will just pull some strings and make it happen."

Kate smothered a laugh, admitting that was probably true.

Gradually, the others joined them outside. Castle came out too, and called the twins over.

He squatted down to their level and looked at the intently. He pointed at the twin on the left. "Elijah," he said confidently.

The twins laughed. "I'm Zeke!" he replied.

Castle pouted.

"Boys, be nice to Castle," Kate said, firmly. She looked over at her partner. "You were right, that's Elijah." She turned to the group. "Everyone, this is Elijah and Ezekiel. Eli, Zeke, this is Castle's daughter Alexis, and his mom Martha, and these are the people we work with, Rya- er Kevin and Javier are detectives, and Lanie is a…" she trailed off, trying to think of a way to explain 'medical examiner' to two seven year olds.

"I chop up dead bodies to work out what killed them," Lanie finished for her.

"Awesome!" chorused the twins, looking at Lanie with wide eyes.

"Is it totally gross?" asked Eli.

"Are they ever not really dead, and then just when you're about to cut them they jump up?" asked Zeke.

"It is pretty gross," Lanie replied. "And there was one time in med school when my friend pretended to be a body and put a sheet over himself, and then scared the pants of some poor first year girl who was coming in to do a prac class when she pulled back the sheet."

"Cool," said Zeke, his eyes shining.

Kate probably should have told Lanie off for giving the boys ideas, but anything that would make them smile on today, of all days, was ok with her.

"Hey, Miss Lanie," Eli said, a pensive look on his face, "are zombies real? Because Rick says they are, but Aunty Kate says that's not true, and Joshua in my class said that he saw one once at the mall and it's face was melting off."

"What do you think?" asked Lanie, clearly smothering a laugh.

"I think Joshua tells lies. Like how he said that I stole his glue stick, but I didn't. And Aunty Kate said Rick has an 'overactive imagination'. Except she calls him Castle. So zombies probably aren't real. But it would be cool if they were."

"I saw a movie with a zombie once." Zeke broke in. "It was trying to eat this guy and then BAM! he shot it in the face."

"It was cool," Eli declared.

The adults all laughed at their enthusiasm. Castle saw a football in the grass by the door, and soon Ryan, Espo and Castle were throwing the ball around with the boys, pretending to tackle each other as they ran around the yard.

"They are wonderful boys," said Martha, smiling at the sight of her son grabbing Zeke around the middle and lifting him up, trying to make the younger boy drop the football he was carrying.

"Yeah," Kate agreed. "They didn't deserve this."

"No one deserves this," said Martha firmly. "But from now on they've got us."

Lanie and Alexis nodded beside Martha. Irrationally, Kate felt tears fill her eyes.

"Thank you for coming," she said, smiling at each of them in turn.

"Of course we came," replied Alexis. "I wanted to meet my little brothers."

Something burned in Kate's chest, and her eyes stung with tears at the younger girl's words. She tried to speak, but she couldn't even form a cohesive thought, let alone words.

"Oh!" said Alexia, seeing Kate's face. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I just thought that since you and dad were applying for custody. But it's not – I mean – I'm sorry." She dropped her head, her long red hair falling to cover her face.

"No," Kate tried to say, but her eyes were stinging and her throat was burning, and she just couldn't speak.

Lanie came to her rescue. "I think Kate's trying to say that they're happy tears. That she's just happy that you're accepting the boys and that things are going to be ok now. She's just a little overwhelmed."

Kate nodded, and then opened her arms. Alexis was crushed up against her instantly. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Then Kate bent her neck and pressed a kiss to the top of Alexis' head. She took a deep breath as they broke apart. "Thank you," she told the younger girl. "I don't know what I did to deserve you in my life, but I'm glad it happened."

"Reward for putting up with me, I suspect," said Castle voice from behind her. Kate turned to face him. "Wait a minute, does that mean that you're glad I follow you around and never take no for an answer?" he teased.

Kate knew he was joking, but she was serious as she answered, "I am."

Castle beamed at her.


	9. Chapter 9

After that horrible, dark day of the funeral and wake, thing only got busier. There were more and more meetings with Child Services, and paperwork, and solicitors meetings and a thousand other things that Kate remembered from those black days after her mother died; taking copies of the death certificate to the bank, the insurance companies, the gas company, ending the lease on Maggie's apartment.

Castle helped the boys pack their things into boxes. He was surprisingly good at it; checking the clothes still fit before packing them, sorting the favourite toys from the ones they'd outgrown.

One terrible, awful day, Jim and Kate packed Maggie's room. Jim's eyes were red rimmed when he loaded the boxes into Castle's car to be taken to donate at the thrift store. Kate was dried eyed and stoic, but that night she burrowed into Castle's arms on the foldout sofa, under sheets that smelled just like Maggie's dresses, shaking with rage at the unfairness of it all.

Eventually, the apartment was packed, and Child Services was allowing them to take the boys back to the city. They had passed the criminal history check, the psych evaluation, the interview and the 'economic assessment', in which Child Services had assessed their income from the last financial year, to see if they had the financial capacity to take care of the boys. Kate wondered how far their eyes had bulged when they saw Castle's net worth. Now all that was left was a home check to make sure the loft was suitable, and they would be granted a temporary placement for the boys.

The night before they were due to drive back to the city, as they lay side by side on the fold out sofa, staring into the darkness, Kate pointed out the obvious.

"The loft has four bedrooms," she told Castle.

"I am aware of that," Castle replied.

Kate rolled her eyes, even though he wouldn't be able to see in the darkness.

"What are we going to do when we take the boys home?" It was strange how right it felt to call the loft ' home', Kate thought.

"I was thinking bunk beds," Castle informed her. "The spare room isn't huge, but with a bunk bed there would still be a bit of space. And we can convert part of the downstairs into a sort of space for them to play. I know there's no yard, but there are parks around."

"Wait. Spare room? Don't you mean my room?" Kate asked. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"I don't suppose we could keep doing this?" Castle asked, indicating the way they lay together on the fold out.

"Your sofa doesn't fold out," Kate informed him dryly.

Castle let out a rumbling laugh. "My room has a nice, big bed. Plenty of room for two."

"Castle," she growled in warning.

He held up a hand in surrender. "Okay, okay! You can have Mother's room. She doesn't need it now she lives at Chet's apartment. Although the poor man may have to let a neighbouring apartment, just to have enough floor space for the contents of her closet."

Kate frowned. "I don't want to kick your mom out. What if things don't work out with Chet? She should have somewhere to go."

"It might be good for Mother. She's always lived her relationships with one foot out the door. If she knows Chet could hold her shoes hostage, it might force her to go all in for once."

Kate looked out into the darkness in silence. She hated feeling like she was a burden on Castle, or pushing Martha out of his life. But what else could she do? Where else could she and the boys go?

"I don't want us to move in and take over your life, Castle."

"You're not taking over my life, Kate," Castle murmured quietly. "You are my life."

Kate's breath caught at the sincerity in his tone.

Castle continued, "Alexis, Eli, Zeke, you. You are my life. Mother knows that I'd share a bunk with the boys before I'd let her go homeless. She'll always have a place with us." He paused. "So I think we should paint the spare room blue, and put in a bunk for the boys. And you can move into Mother's room, and all of our family will be under one roof."

Our family, Kate thought. Mine and Castle's.

Perhaps it was time she started thinking of him as Rick.

"Thank you," she told him, meaning it more than she could say.

"Thank _you_," he replied, pulling her closer against his side. She snuggled in automatically. "Although if you really want to thank me, you could reconsider that whole sharing a room thing. We could get a bunk bed too." His voice became low and husky. "I'd even let you be on top."

* * *

><p>The next day they drove back to the city - Castle driving his car and Kate following in the U-haul van they had hired – with six suitcases of clothes, five boxes of toys and books, one large wooden toy chest, two bikes and two more sons than when they left.<p>

The moment Castle had parked the car, the boys were out, running up and down the sidewalk.

"Did you see up waving at you, Aunty Kate?" asked Zeke.

"I sure did," she assured them.

"Is this our new house? It's huge!"

"Do you own the whole building?"

"Are there slides inside?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't own the whole thing," Castle laughed. He pointed at the corner. "That's our apartment up there."

"Cool," said Eli.

"It's really high up! Can you see the statue of liberty from there?" Zeke was shouting, but the two boys were already running ahead into the lobby without waiting for a reply.

Kate loaded up with two suitcases, and took off after them.

"Wait, boys!" she called.

The doorman had stopped them just inside the lobby.

"Mike, sorry about that," Kate apologised. "I can explain-"

"No need, Ms Beckett," said Mike with a smile. "Miss Castle already told me we had two new residents coming today. I thought it might be best if they waited for you though," he laughed.

"Thanks," said Kate dryly. "And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Kate?"

"At least one more, Ms Beckett," answered Mike with a smile.

Castle appeared then, loaded up with boxes. "Hi, Mike," he said, nodding at the doorman. The boys began fighting over who got to push the elevator button. Castle smoothly intervened, and Eli got to push the 'up' button, and Zeke got to push the level for their floor once they were on board.

Kate felt exhausted.

The boys' reaction to the apartment made her smile though. They ran in circles through the lounge, then Eli discovered Castle's bedroom coming out of the side of the office. "Cool!" Eli shouted, his voice echoing, "Can this be our room?"

"Your room is upstairs," Kate replied, putting the two suitcases down. "But my stuff is in there, so I have to move that first."

"Where are you going to put your stuff?" asked Zeke.

"Are you going to stay in this room?" Eli shouted from Castle's bedroom. "Not fair! Hey look, there's a bathroom in this bedroom! How weird."

"That's Castle's room," Kate replied.

"Are you going to stay there too?" asked Zeke. "Are you going to make lovey faces at each other like you did on the couch at our place?"

Kate heard laughter from across the room and looked up to see Alexis descending the stairs. She felt her face heat.

"It's not like- we were not making lovey faces!" she stuttered out.

"They totally were," Zeke whispered loudly to Alexis.

Kate pretended she didn't hear that.

It took several trips back to the van to bring everything up to the loft, and Kate felt every one of the long days they had had the past weeks, but she needed to get started moving her things from the spare room to Martha's.

Martha had already removed the rest of her belongings from her room, although Kate found the upstairs hall closet was still filled to overflowing with more neon shoes and tasselled clutches than it should be legal for one woman to own.

Surprisingly, moving her things to her new room didn't take all that long, and Kate was again reminded of everything she had lost when her apartment blew up 6 months ago.

Of course, she didn't have to look around her room to see all the things she had gained since then. There were four of them, and they were waiting for her downstairs.

Castle looked up as she made her way down the stairs. He was in the kitchen, preparing sandwiches for everyone. Kate felt her stomach rumble. "I was just about to come and get you," he told her, smiling.

As they sat down to eat, Castle handed her a piece of paper.

She looked up at him in confusion.

"It was on the fridge when we got home," Castle told her. "Read it."

'It Takes A Village' was written across the top of the page. Curious, Kate read on. First was a note saying, 'Martha and Chet' followed by Martha's cell number, then Chet's cell, and the phone number for their apartment. Under that was written 'I didn't do a horrible job with Richard!'.

Kate's brows furrowed in confusion.

The next paragraph was headed 'Alexis', again followed by her cell. 'Can bring them home from school and watch in the evenings, except Thursdays when I tutor for AP maths. Weekends no problem.'

It suddenly struck her what this paper was. Each paragraph was another friend or family member volunteering to sit for the boys. Each had listed their contact details and a brief summary of when they could help out. She looked down the page to see notes from her father, Martha, Chet, Alexis, Phoebe (a friend of Alexis with her own babysitting business), Ryan, Jennie (who mentioned she got lonely in the evenings if the team was working late, so she could happily take the boys for a few hours), Lanie, Espo, Maddie and Demming. Even the Montgomerys had a note, saying that they could have the boys around anytime.

The kindness of their friends blew her away.

"Castle," she whispered, looking up at him in awe.

A smile spread across the writer's face as he looked at her. "I know," he said. "It's great, isn't it?"

She shook her head in amazement. "What did we do to deserve such good friends?" she asked.

"You're you," he replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She looked back down at the page, the words blurring as her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away quickly, smiling to herself. Maybe they really could do this, after all.

* * *

><p>That afternoon Montgomery called her, and begged her to stay on at the 12th. He promised more flexible work hours and an extra administrative assistant to share between the two homicide teams to help out with paperwork. Kate told him she had to think about it, but made a time to go and see him to talk about it.<p>

She had a long conversation with Castle about what they would do. It was finally begin to hit her that every decision she made from now on would involve others. Everything she did affected the boys, or Castle or Alexis, or all of them.

She worried about the danger and long hours, but Castle assured her they would work things out. Honestly, she really couldn't imagine her life without her job, so she went to the meeting with Montgomery and agreed to start back three days later. She was running out of paid leave anyway, and as much as Castle offered to pay for things, she didn't want to take advantage of him. And she was just beginning to realise how expensive kids were. Castle's multimillion dollar fortune might not be enough on its own.

So the boys slept with her in Martha's king size bed for two days, while they ordered bunk beds and painted the spare room blue. They installed bookshelves along one wall of the boys' room, and Alexis filled them with some of her hand-me-down books, as well as the ones the boys brought with them.

At night Kate tried not to miss the feel of Castle's body beside her, wondering how she slept better squashed up against him in a broken-down, saggy fold out than on Martha's pillow top mattress in a cherry wood four poster bed.

Eli still broke out with anger for no reason sometimes, and Zeke sobbed when they couldn't find his blanket before he went to bed the first night in the city. Kate still questioned her every decision, and feared that one wrong choice could land the boys in therapy for the rest of their life. But Alexis helped her unpack all six suitcases until they found Zeke's blanket, and Castle was a rock, guiding her through the days when life seemed impossible.

Slowly, gradually, hope returned to their lives.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note**: I can't thank you enough for the beautiful reviews I got on the last chapter! I've got to admit, I'm overworked and overtired, but some of those reviews actually brought tears to my eyes. I feel so wonderfully appreciated. Y'all are amazing!

This is a little 'different'. It's also the last chapter before we get into some more 'casework' type stuff. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p>People didn't understand Michaela Lyons' job.<p>

Working for child services meant she was almost universally hated. The parents hated her when she took their kids away (although she had to admit, hating her was better than the ones who didn't care, or even seem to notice).

The children hated her when she took them away from their parents, even when those parents abused them, because they were the only family they had known. They hated her when she left them at a foster home. They hated her when she tried to discipline them, to make them stop skipping school, or stealing or starting fights. They hated her even more when she moved them to yet another foster home when things 'didn't work out'.

She thought of how her last boyfriend (nearly two years ago now, she really needed to remember to date) reacted when she'd tell him about her cases for the day. He'd told her it sounded depressing as hell. And the pay was terrible.

He'd asked her why she even bothered. She told him that she did it because someone had to.

He didn't understand. She knew then that their relationship would never last.

She did it because someone had to fight for these kids.

Even if they hated her for it.

She did it because no one had done it for her.

She had been the kid with just a few too many broken bones. The 'clumsy' kid. Maybe the doctors suspected something, but it was before the days of mandatory reporting, and they were busy, and they didn't want to look closely because they were afraid of what they might find.

But her whole life, Michaela was just waiting for someone to take a second look.

As long as it was in her power, she would never let that happen to another kid again.

* * *

><p>It wasn't a part of town that Michaela visited often. She was far more used to seeing homes in the 'low socioeconomic' areas of the city. There was a doorman in the lobby, who said he was expecting her, and who smiled and told her how great Mr Castle and Ms Beckett were, and what a wonderful young girl Alexis was as he walked her over to the lift. There <em>was <em>a lift, for Heaven's sake. It was certainly not the seven story walk-up that she was used to.

Michaela paused in the lift and checked over the file again. Katherine Beckett and Richard Castle, applying for custody of Katherine's recently deceased cousin's children, Elijah and Ezekiel Beckett.

On paper, they had checked out. Katherine was a cop with a good record, stable job and impeccable references. Richard was a writer (Michaela had heard of his books, but hadn't had the chance to read any herself, although he was a very good writer if his net worth was any indication). Richard already had one daughter, Alexis, from a previous marriage. She went to a private school, had fantastic grades and no criminal history, which was a tick in their favour as far as a history of parenting went. Mind you, Richard himself had a history of indecent exposure and stealing a police horse, which they would certainly be talking about.

The elevator dinged, and Michaela looked up to see the doors opening. She closed the file and made her way down the carpeted corridor towards their apartment. Yes, this was a fancy building, in a great part of town, and they were loaded. That didn't mean jack about their ability to be parents, and it didn't guarantee they wouldn't hurt the boys or neglect them. Michaela was not going to let a little glitz distract her from what really mattered.

She reached up and knocked sharply on the apartment door.

The door opened almost instantly to reveal a tall, dark haired man. "Richard Castle," he said, holding out his hand and smiling broadly.

She shook his hand firmly, giving a tight, professional smile. "Michaela Lyons, social services."

"Please, come in," Richard said, opening the door wider in invitation. Michaela entered, her eyes glancing around the modern, spacious apartment for a moment before falling on the woman who stood a few steps behind Richard.

"Katherine Beckett," said the woman, stepping forward to shake hands. "Thank you for coming, Ms Lyons."

They were more good looking than she expected.

It was a bizarre first impression, and Michaela didn't really know what she was expecting. But they were both so tall, even the detective. Both long and lean and charming. They were obviously nervous, which Michaela appreciated, because it meant they cared. Eager to impress.

"This is my daughter, Alexis," Richard continued, indicating a tall red-head with milky white skin and a heart shaped face.

Alexis smiled and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Ms Lyons," she said softly. Michaela liked her immediately.

"And these are the boys," Katherine finished, ushering them over from where they sat on the couch. "Eli and Zeke."

"Hi boys," Michaela said, crouching down to their level. "My name is Michaela. You can call me Mickey if you like." She showed them her Mickey Mouse watch. That got a smile out of one of the twins, so she lent closer. "Don't tell the adults, but later I might show you my Spiderman socks," she promised.

They both smiled at that, and looked up at Katherine and Richard to see if they had heard. The writer and detective pretended they hadn't heard anything, and Michaela raised a finger to cover her lips, telling the boys not to say anything.

She straightened up and looked over at Katherine. "Please, come and take a seat," the detective suggested, gesturing to the couches in the lounge.

"Can I get you a drink?" offered Richard.

"No, thank you," Michaela replied, settling on the couch. She paused for a second, while everyone sat down and then dove in. "I usually start by having a chat about what my role is, and then I'd like to speak to the boys alone, if that's ok." It wasn't really a question.

"Of course," said Katherine. "The boys can take you up and show you their room."

"Great," said Michaela. "Basically, my role today is to assess whether I think the temporary order for custody should stand. That involves some brief interviews and a home assessment to make sure this is a safe place for the boys. If that is successful, we move onto starting a new application for long term placement. Most of the basics for that will have already been completed as part of the application for temporary placement which you've previously completed and been granted."

Richard and Katherine nodded in understanding, so she continued. "I'm the case worker for the boys, which means that I make all my decisions based on their future best interests. If you disagree with any of my decisions you can lodge an appeal, but hopefully it won't come to that."

"Future best interests?" asked the writer, looking confused.

"At a time of crisis, kids have short term needs – food, safety, shelter, that sort of thing. What I have to consider now is not only those things, but what is in the long-term best interests of Elijah and Ezekiel; what's going to give them the best opportunities for education, social and psychological development, security and family support." Richard and Kate both nodded in understanding.

She smiled and turned to the boys. "But before we talk boring adult stuff, would it be ok if I saw your room?"

The boys looked at Katherine, who nodded once, and then they led her upstairs to a room that was neat and clean although liberally scattered with Batman memorabilia. She looked around the room briefly, noting the bookshelf filled with age appropriate books and a small pile of comic books, the power points fitted with child safety plugs, the safety rail on the side of the top bunk bed.

Michaela started with the easy questions: who had the top bunk bed, and what their favourite toy was, and if they could have one of Batman's gadgets which one would they chose and why.

They gradually warmed up to her, and while they showed her their Batmobile "which you take apart here at the front and then Batman is on a motorbike and he shoots out and runs over the bad guy, BANG!" Then she got to the real questions: what do they think about Katherine and Richard, do they feel safe, do they want to stay here.

"Mom's not coming back." Zeke informed her when she asks the last question. "So we have to live with Aunty Kate now."

"Do you want to live with Aunty Kate?" Michaela asked.

Zeke shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "Uncle Rick makes good pancakes, and we had pizza for dinner last night."

Michaela could understand why that would be a winning combination for any seven year old. Still, Michaela hasn't seen anything concerning, and the boys certainly aren't fearful of either of the adults.

"Thank you for showing me your room. I'm going to go downstairs and talk with Aunty Kate and Uncle Rick, ok?"

The boys nodded, not even looking up from the Joker figuring clutched in Eli's hand as he smashed it into the Batmobile.

Instead of taking a left and going back downstairs, Michaela poked her head into the room next to the boys. It was clearly a teenager's room, with a bright bedspread and desk neatly stacked with text books and a laptop. A violin case rested in the corner next to a music stand, and a shelf high on the wall was filled with trophies and medals. Alexis' room.

The room at the end of the hall was another bedroom, this time with a large four poster bed, with a small half-bath ensuite. This must be Rick and Kate's room, she decided.

Coming back down the corridor, on the opposite side to the boys' bedroom was a toilet and bathroom. She was pleased to see that the medical cabinet was locked and there weren't any dangerous chemicals under the sink. The boys were a bit beyond the age of putting everything in their mouths, but kids had funny ways of dealing with grief, and they wouldn't be the youngest overdose she had seen.

Deciding she had seen enough of the upstairs, Michaela headed back to the staircase. As she made her way down the stairs she took note of Kate sitting with Alexis on the couch. The younger woman had her head resting on the detective's shoulder and was speaking to both Richard and Kate. Michaela only caught the tail end of her sentence, saying that something would "be fine," but she had a suspicion the teenager was trying to reassure the adults about the assessment, which was very sweet.

Michaela continued down the stairs and into the lounge, talking a seat on the lounge chair opposite Rick, and adjacent to Kate and Alexis. "Should I go?" asked the teenager, moving forward on the couch as though she was about to stand.

Kate's hand feel on Alexis' arm, halting her movement. "Stay, Lex," she said. "You're part of this too. As long as that's ok with you, Ms Lyons?"

Michaela nodded. Alexis was just about to go from being an only child to one of three, and likely would be expected to help out with babysitting and such. Michaela wanted to be sure she wasn't going to resent the boys, or harm them in any way.

She took out a pen, and opened her case file, working through the standard questions. She made minimal notes, making sure to keep a sharp eye on the other three occupants of the room when they answered her questions, and was pleased when she couldn't detect anything but truth from each of them.

They hadn't yet enrolled the boys in a school, but they had made appointments with several principles to tour schools in the local area. They had a list of responsible adults who could provide care for the boys when they were unable to. Ms Beckett's work was going to be more flexible with hours and Mr Castle would pick the boys up from school and could work from home on his writing in the afternoons and during holidays or if the boys were sick. He even explained the incident with the police horse. So far, everything checked out.

Richard gave her a brief tour of the kitchen, and Michaela had to smile at how enthusiastically he showed her how they had moved the sharp knives and cleaning chemicals to a cupboard the boys couldn't reach. He started talking about fire safety, proudly telling her how Alexis had used her quick thinking to grab a fire blanket and covered a pan which had caught fire during an experiment with a flaming bombe Alaska when she was eight.

"Not that we have a lot of fires!" he suddenly exclaimed. "We take all reasonable precautions when we cook. Even some unreasonable precautions! When I was investigating quick freezing with liquid nitrogen a few months ago I wore industrial strength gloves _and_ used tongs."

"That's fine, Mr Castle."

"I mean, I wouldn't want you to think that the boys were in any danger of fire breaking out. I mean, of course they are in danger of it happening, because it could happen to anyone, but not more than the average person."

"Yes, Mr Castle."

"In fact, maybe even less than the average person, because we don't cook dinner every night, we order in a fair bit."

"Okay."

"Not a lot though! I mean, we try and order healthy foods, although we did have Pizza last night, but that was special on account of it being the boys' first night in the city and we were tired from moving. But we don't eat a lot of junk food."

"Right."

"Because I wouldn't want you to think that were going to give the kids diabetes or something. Not that we wouldn't take good care of them if we did. Of course. But just so you know-"

"Mr Castle!" she interrupted.

Richard paused mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open comically.

"I understand," Michaela said, amused despite herself. She wondered how he ever managed to string a comprehensible sentence together when he wrote. "Why don't we sit down again?" she suggested, indicating the lounge room.

Richard nodded eagerly, leaning in "And maybe, don't tell Beckett what I said about the fire-thing, ok?" he whispered.

The edge of Michaela's mouth tipped up in a smirk. "Your ramblings are safe with me," she promised.

They re-joined the others in the lounge. Michaela turned over to the last page of the application. "Right, Ms Beckett. I know we've been over this, but I need to ask you formally; is it your wish to put in an application for temporary custody of the minor Beckett children with a view to permanent placement if this is successful?"

Kate Beckett took a deep breath and said the word that would change her life forever. "Yes."

"And is it your intention to file for joint custody with your partner Richard Castle?"

There was a pause, and the two of them exchanged a glance. It was the first time they'd appeared less than honest, and the hesitation was enough to arouse Michaela's suspicions.

"Look, I'm team Beckett on this one. It's obvious you love those boys. You are the closest relation they have, unless we can track down the father, and even if we can he's got a lot of proving to do that he is worthy of custody."

"I'll say," interjected Castle darkly.

"I'm not here to trip you up or catch you out. I'm here to work out what is best for these kids. But I need you to be honest with me if we're going to do that. And in return you have my word that I'll be honest with you. So, can we work together on this?"

"We're not in a relationship," Kate blurted out.

"You and Mr Castle?" Michaela frowned. "But you want to foster two kids together?"

"Yes," Kate replied.

"And you live together?" Michaela asked.

"Yes."

"But you're not related?"

"No!" they both interjected. _A tad too vehemently for 'just friends',_ Michaela thought.

"But you share a bedroom?"

"We what?!" they said in unison.

"Upstairs," said Michaela, pointing with her finger. "Just three bedrooms."

"My room is off the office," Rick explained, pointing.

"Okay. But you've been previously raising Alexis Castle, aged 16, together?"

"Yes," said Castle. "Since Beckett moved in six months ago we both look after Alexis. And over the summer while I was away on a book tour for work, Beckett was talking care of Alexis alone. She's wonderful with her."

"Okay. And Ms Beckett moved in here because?"

"My apartment blew up. A fan of the _Nikki Heat _books did it."

"_Nikki Heat?_"

"My best-selling series of novels detailing the escapades of a sexy and daring New York City homicide detective, loosely based on my time shadowing Beckett," said Richard. Michaela heard Kate snort at the word 'loosely'. "I'd be happy to get you signed copies of the entire series, if you like."

"Castle!" hissed Kate.

"What?"

"Not the time!"

Richard looked confused. "But-"

"You do not offer freebies to people who are assessing your suitability for child-rearing," Kate said pointedly.

"Oh!" said Richard. "I wasn't trying to bribe you, Ms Lyons! I just thought you might enjoy the books."

"I understand," Michaela replied.

"If I was going to bribe you, I'd do it a whole lot better than just a few signed books."

"Castle!" Kate dropped her head into her hands with a groan.

"Right," said Michaela. "Let me get all of this straight. Ms Beckett solves murders. Mr Castle, you follow her around and write bestselling novels about her. Then Ms Beckett's apartment gets blown up by a deranged fan obsessed with the alter ego of Ms Beckett that Mr Castle created. So you move in here with him and help raise his daughter, whilst you continue to work together. Even though Mr Castle is not actually a police officer. Then Ms Margaret Beckett passes away, and you two apply to share custody of her sons. You want to raise three kids together, even though you're not actually in a relationship?"

Honestly, this pair was sounded more and more like a sitcom.

Castle's eyes sparkled as he smiled broadly. "You know Ms Lyons, you should really call us Kate and Rick."

Michaela sighed.

"Look, to be honest, I don't care what your relationship is, whether you're brother and sister or housemates or ex-spouses or dating. What I do care about is how it's going to affect those boys. They need safety and stability in their home life. I need to find the best opportunity to provide them with that."

That 'charming' smile appeared back on Rick's face. Michaela had the feeling he was used to using it to dazzle women into doing what he wanted. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Kate.

"We can provide that. This is for the long haul," she said, gesturing between herself and Castle. "We've worked together and been best friends for 3 years, and lived together for the last six months. No matter what, we're committed to providing the best for Alexis and Eli and Zeke."

Michaela watched them for a moment, searching their faces for any sign of doubt or deceit. Finally she nodded. Best friends she could work with. At least they were being honest with her. And she'd seen a lot worse in her clients. "I don't want to put these boys in foster care. Chances are they wind up in a group home and shunted from place to place until they age out. You two are offering a much better chance at normalcy and I think you can make a wonderful family. We're not such a rigid system that we can't see that families come in a lot of shapes and sizes. And best friends raising kids together makes fine sense to me."

Michaela could feel the tension ease as Richard, Kate and Alexis all sighed in relief.

She considered for a moment, then shut her folder, capping her pen. "We'll see how this goes for the rest of the trial period. We **will **be making regular checks, and keeping a close eye on the school performance, health and happiness of the boys." There was the barest hint of threat to her voice. She paused for a moment, making sure they were all on the same page. The detective nodded.

"Good," Michaela continued. "My recommendation based on today is that the home is a suitable dwelling for Elijah and Ezekiel. We will review this formally in three months, and after six months you can make an application for a permanent placement or adoption if it is your wish."

The couple on the couch opposite was shell-shocked.

"We? Really?" Kate managed.

"Really."

Rick sprung from his seat and crossed to Michaela's side. "Thank you, Ms Lyons, " he said, seizing her hand and shaking it vigorously. "You won't regret it." Unlike his 'charming' smile earlier, the grin that lit up his face now seemed big enough to split his face in half with joy.

Between Alexis, Kate and Richard, Michaela couldn't decide who looked the most elated as they said goodbye to Michaela at the door. The door had barely closed behind her when she heard Rick let out a whoop of delight. She waited by the front door for a moment, and heard Rick shouting for the boys to come downstairs so they could go get ice cream to celebrate.

She couldn't hear if the boys replied, but she did hear Kate reprimanding Rick. "They had pancakes for breakfast this morning! They don't need more sugar."

"Ah, they'll run it off at the park," the writer replied. "Besides, it's not every day a man gets two sons. I think under such extraordinary circumstances we can have both pancakes and choc mint ice cream with the little fudgy pieces in twenty-four hours."

Michaela backed away from the closed front door, chuckling to herself.

Yes, most people didn't understand her job.

But at moments like this, Michaela wouldn't change it for the world.


	11. Chapter 11

She turned down the alley, her heels barely kissing the concrete as she flew through the air in pursuit of the suspect. "NYPD!" she screamed. "Freeze!"

He didn't, of course. They never did.

But it was a blind alley. He had to stop soon. She planted her feet and raised her arms, training her weapon on the suspect's figure with deadly accuracy.

She tried one last time. "Freeze! Castle, on the ground, now!" she shouted, her eyes never leaving their target. Richard Castle stood thirty feet from her, his own gun pointed unerringly in her direction.

Kate Beckett allowed herself half a second to focus and exhale.

Then she pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p>Three Days Earlier.<p>

It was her first day back at work and she already missed Castle. Which was ridiculous, considering that she'd only said goodbye to him four hours ago. She remembered the way that he'd looked in his PJs and bathrobe, with his hair adorably mussed and his eyes still puffy from sleep, as he handed her a coffee in to-go mug in the kitchen this morning. He was taking the boys to go and check out schools today, but she needed to get back to the precinct. Today was her first day back at work since Maggie had died, and she and Castle had been awarded temporary custody of Maggie's seven year old twin sons.

Kate came to the sudden realisation that she was staring at Castle's empty chair next to her desk, and coming dangerously close to sighing. Honestly, could she get any more fangirl? She was disgusted with herself.

It was just that they'd spent every hour together for the last couple of weeks. Ok, so every _waking_ hour together for the last few weeks.

She thought of all the nights they'd spent together on the fold-out up at Maggies'. _So every waking hour and most of the sleeping ones for the last few weeks._

Not that anything had happened.

So it was perfectly logical that she would be used to his presence, and you know, miss it when it wasn't there.

(She remembered Lanie, months ago, commenting on how interesting it was that living with Castle hadn't made her feel smothered, when normally she had trouble spending more than a couple of hours at a time with the same person.)

(Sometimes she hated having such a good memory.)

(And that Lanie was always right.)

_It's just the boredom_, she told herself. Which was true. Since she'd been away, Ryan and Esposito had worked with another team, and now that she was back they didn't have any active cases. They'd helped out one of the other homicide teams with combing through a vic's financials this morning, but that had only taken a few hours. Now they were stuck in homicide, waiting for a body to drop.

Kate looked around the room. Esposito was leaning back in his chair, reading a magazine. Ryan appeared to be attempting to balance a spoon on his nose. As she watched he overbalanced and the spoon clattered noisily to the floor. Ryan swore in frustration.

Kate looked over at Castle's empty chair and sighed.

* * *

><p><em>Finally!<em> Kate thought as she pulled up at the crime scene. And then: _I can't believe I was actually hoping to get a call about a murder. I'm a horrible person._

Still, that didn't stop her from leaping from the car and hurrying over to Lanie in anticipation. She felt better when she realised that Esposito and Ryan were hot on her heels, and just as eager.

"Don't worry, she's not going anywhere," Lanie said dryly. "Good to have you back though, hun," she added when she saw Kate, her face softening.

"Thanks, Lanie. It's good to be back. What have you got for me?"

The medical examiner led them to the front of a hotel and pointed upward. Caught up in the awning over the main entrance was the body of a young woman.

"Did she fall, or was she pushed?" pondered Ryan.

"Neither," said Lanie. "She was shot multiple times in the chest before she did a Greg Louganis out of the window."

"Hey, it's Castle," said Ryan, pointing.

Kate's heart skipped a beat, the smile coming to her face automatically as she turned in the direction the other detective had pointed. _He must have missed me as much as I missed –_

She froze, mid-thought. There, in the bookshop window, was a life-size cardboard cut-out of Castle beside a large display of _Naked Heat_ books.

She frowned. _He's with the boys today anyway, _she reminded herself._ And even Castle isn't crazy enough to bring kids to a crime scene._ Still, for a second she'd hoped –

Kate looked back over a Ryan and Esposito's smirking faces. "Funny you two," she said. "And just for that, you two get the double joys and dumpster diving for evidence _and_ canvasing the whole block."

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Ryan and Esposito's exploits were entirely unsuccessful. It was Lanie who provided a break in the case, finding a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it, clutched tightly within the victim's hand.<p>

It was late afternoon when the three homicide detectives made their way to the address from the scrap of paper. Kate pulled out her cell on the way to call Castle and let him know where they were headed. Not because she missed him. It was just – you know – she wanted him to still feel in the loop, even if he couldn't come in today.

_Right, you keep telling yourself that, Kate Beckett_, she thought.

It turned out it didn't matter why she called him, because it went straight to voicemail without ringing. _Maybe he's in a meeting with a school principle and turned off his phone,_ she thought, and hung up without leaving a message.

A moment later her attention was solely occupied by the case as they arrived at the address from the piece of paper, and found the door had been forced open. The three of them drew their weapons, and Esposito and Ryan flanked her as they burst into the apartment.

They moved through the trashed apartment quickly and efficiently. The furniture was overturned, with papers strewn about the room. They quickly cleared the lounge and made their way to the door at the rear of the apartment, presumably leading to the bedroom.

The sound of breaking glass filled the air. Someone was in the bedroom.

Kate turned to face the other detectives, signalling that she would take point and they should cover her. They made their way over to the door and she kicked it open.

"NYPD!" she shouted, her gun trained on the suspect. "Drop your weapon."

"Hands the air!" Esposito shouted from her left.

"Drop it now!" bellowed Ryan from the far side of the room.

As the suspect turned, Ryan shouted "GUN!" as he caught sight of the weapon in the suspect's hand, and then fired at the perp. The shot went wide, embedding itself in the plasterboard to the right of the suspect's head.

"Whoa," said the suspect, holding his hands up in surrender and glaring at Ryan.

Except it wasn't a suspect.

It was Castle.

"Kate?" he said, surprised.

"Castle?" she asked in confusion, lowering her gun. It was then that she noticed there was a dead girl with a bullet wound on the bed Castle was standing next to. Her brain abruptly stopped working as she tried to comprehend the situation.

Esposito looked at the dead girl on the bed, and the gun in Castle's hand. "Drop the weapon!" he shouted, his gun still pointed at Castle's chest.

"What?" said Kate in confusion. "Guys, it's Castle. It's not what it looks like."

"It never is," said Esposito, his gun not wavering from Castle's centre of mass.

"Okay," said Castle, slowly lowering the gun from his hand to the floor. Kate noticed his hand was shaking slightly. He raised his hands in the air.

"Turn around," said Ryan.

"What?" said Kate. None of this was making sense.

"Castle, turn around," repeated Ryan, Esposito covering him as the smaller detective lowered his weapon and pulled out his handcuffs.

"Wait, what?" said Kate. She turned her back to Castle and unconsciously moved to his side, still standing between him and the detectives.

"Lower your weapon, Detective," said Esposito in a firm voice, and Kate realised she was standing in front of Castle, protecting him, her gun still pointed at a forty-five degree angle toward the floor.

"You guys, it's Castle." As a show of good faith, she holstered her gun.

"Kate, I know. But you see how this looks," said Esposito, relaxing slightly, but leaving his weapon trained on the mystery writer.

"I know. And we'll go through all this back at the station. But we don't need to arrest him for that." Unaccountably, she realised that her left hand was holding Castle's right, their fingers laced together. She didn't even remember reaching out and taking hold of his hand. She unconsciously raised their joined hands as she spoke. "He's not going anywhere, right Rick?"

The writer swallowed loudly. "Right," he agreed.

"So we all just put away our guns, and go down to the station, and Rick will explain all this, and Friday night we'll be out for beers telling the crazy story of how Castle wound up leaning over a dead body with a gun, and Annie Oakley over here nearly shot him." She gestured at Ryan, who had the good grace to blush, the handcuffs in his hands dropping slightly. "But right now, everyone just needs to put their guns away, and no one can shoot Castle, ok?" Was that really her voice? She sounded so panicking and shaky.

Castle obviously noticed. "It's ok, Kate." His thumb traced the back of her hand where they were joined. "Nobody but you is allowed to shoot me, everyone knows that. Ryan and Esposito are just doing their jobs. But now let's all go down to the station and talk about this, ok?"

"Ok," she agreed, and everyone put their guns away and Ryan called for uniforms to come and secure the scene. Once backup had everything under control the detectives and the writer left.

And it wasn't until they got to the car that Kate realised that she still held Castle's hand firmly in her own.

* * *

><p>Once they were down at the station, Kate refused to let Castle out of her sight. She told herself it was because she was worried someone would arrest him when she wasn't looking, before she had a chance to straighten this whole thing out.<p>

Which was mostly true. There was also the fact that she was utterly terrified and her whole world was falling apart and nothing seemed real except the feel on Castle's fingers entwined with hers, anchoring her.

So when Castle was taken to the interrogation room for questions, Kate went in with him, glaring fiercely at anyone who tried to get in her way.

"So Castle, how about you tell us the one about how you ended up standing over a dead body with a loaded gun?" Esposito asked, as he and Ryan charged into the interrogation room. The two detectives took a seat at the table, sitting opposite Castle and Kate.

"She was already dead when I got there."

"Right, and how did you know to go there?"

"She called me."

"The dead woman called you and invited you over?"

"Yes." He paused. "Before she was dead. Obviously."

Esposito looked over at Kate, sitting at Castle side. His eyes shifted back to the writer. "What exactly was your relationship with the victim?"

"We didn't have a relationship," said Castle.

"Right. So a woman you don't know just decided to bootie call you in the middle of the day?"

"It wasn't a bootie call."

"But you were in a relationship with her?"

"No! She's an artist. Was an artist.I brought a couple of sculptures from her." He turned to Kate, "you know, the figure of the woman without the face on the shelf on the wall the separates my office from the living room? You love that."

"Castle, be serious." Kate warned.

"So if you weren't in a relationship, why would Ms Santori call_ you_?" Esposito asked.

"She was in trouble."

"Why you? Why didn't she call the police?" Ryan asked.

"She said it wasn't the kind of trouble you could call the police about."

"So why did she call you?" Kate asked.

"Because she knew I had a special relationship with you-" his eyes fell on the two male detectives, looking at the two of them with interest – "err, I mean - with the NYPD. She was hoping I could help."

"Help how?"

"I don't know. She didn't want to talk over the phone. Alexis had just arrived home from school, so I got her to watch the boys so I could go over. When I got to the apartment, the place was trashed. I tried to call you, but my cell was dead. I must have forgotten to charge it last night." Kate remembered trying to call him earlier, and the phone going straight to voice mail. "Then I saw the body and the gun."

"And you, being a veteran of multiple crime scenes – both written and real life – decide to smear your prints all over the gun, and then point it threateningly when the cops arrive?" Esposito asked sarcastically.

The door to the interrogation room opened and Montgomery entered. Castle ignored the interruption and continued.

"Maybe you missed the part where I said she was shot dead. When I heard the noises coming from the next room I thought maybe whoever killed her was coming back. So I picked up the gun to defend myself. It seemed like a very good idea at the time. That's when Kate, you, and Fast Fingers Freddy came bursting through the door."

"Fast Fingers Freddy?" Montgomery asked from the doorway.

"Yeah," said Castle. "Quick Draw McGraw over here shot at me."

"He had a gun!" Ryan defended.

"The wrong gun," said Montgomery. "Slugs were from a .45, Castle was holding a .38."

Ryan and Esposito looked visibly relieved. Kate was annoyed at them for even considering Castle had done this. _They don't know him like you do,_ she reminded herself.

"Castle, you're free to go." Montgomery continued.

"And miss all this! No way," said the eager writer. He turned to Kate. "What's our next move?"

She glanced at the Captain and then her watch. It was already after 5:30. "Home," she said. "Takeout because I can't be bothered cooking. Baths for the boys, one –_short –_ bedtime story, not the _War and Peace_ you told them last night. And then we can talk about what you found out about schools for the boys today and possible links between our two vics." She kept a watch on Montgomery from the corner of her eye. She'd told him when she'd agreed to come back to Homicide that she had different priorities now. He'd promised they would be flexible. This was the first test of that.

The Captain nodded, almost impermeably, and she let out the breath she didn't realise she was holding.

"Good," she said, standing up from behind the integration table.

She felt a tugging in her arm as she stood and looked down.

And found that she'd been holding Castle's hand under the table the entire time.

* * *

><p>"We're sending the boys to private school." Castle said the second they got into the car.<p>

Kate felt the annoyance creep up her spine. "No, we're not. We already had this argument."

"Argument?" said Castle. "I prefer the term 'lively debate'. And I lost last time. So we're having it again."

"Castle," she sighed in frustration. "I went to public school. And I turned out fine."

"I'm not disputing that. But the boys are going private."

"You might believe that having lots of money makes someone a better person, but I don't."

Castle glared at her. He didn't often get that angry, and it made her take note. "They had metal detectors at the school I took the boys to see today, Kate," he says. "At an elementary school. This isn't about them 'mixing with the right people' or some ridiculous moneyed nonsense. This is about keeping them safe."

"I'm sure it's a precaution. Besides, you think rich kids don't bring guns to school?" she rebutted. But inside she felt herself waver. The boys went to public school before when they were living with their mom. But this was New York City. How could she live with herself if something happened to them? What would Maggie have done?

"There is a statistically significant difference in levels of school violence between private and public schools in New York," he replied. "What?" he said when her eyebrow rose in surprise. "You think I didn't look into all this when I was choosing where to send Alexis? I didn't just close my eyes and chose the most expensive school in the city."

She forgot sometimes, that he'd been a father a lot longer than she'd been a mom. She went silent, thinking about what he had said.

He took her silence as disagreement. "Why don't we talk about what this is really about?" he asked.

"What is this really about, Castle?" her tone was indignant, but she had a feeling this conversation was about to head in a direction that she didn't want to go.

"Money."

Yep. That was the direction she really didn't want to go.

"I have a lot of money. It doesn't make me happy. Those boys need things, like beds and shoes and an education. Buying those things for them makes me happy."

"Castle, it's not that simple."

"Yes it is! If you were out with Alexis one day, and she was hungry, you'd by her lunch, right? So why can't I buy things for the boys they need?"

"There's a big difference between a sandwich and a $30,000 a year private school!"

"Not to me!" Castle shouted. "Look, I know we don't talk about this, but I'm rich. School fees for me are like coffee change for you. And the boys shouldn't suffer because you're too proud to accept money from me."

Her blood boiled, and she wanted to tell him what he could do with his money. But there was a small part of her that acknowledged that maybe he had a point.

"I'm sorry," said Castle, the anger now gone from his voice completely. "But they're my boys too. And if were really serious about doing this together, then I get a say. They've already been through too much. I just want them to be safe."

"You can't protect them from everything," Kate replied. "We see proof of that every day."

"I know." He sighed. "But I'm going to pay for stuff, Kate. I'm going to buy them things. It makes no sense that we live in a world where I get millions to sit in my safe, warm office and make up stories, and you put your life on the line every day to bring real justice and can barely make a living. But that _is_ the world we live in, and one way to make it fair is for me to help. Besides, you won't let me give you royalties from the Nikki Heat books, even though I couldn't have written them without you. So just think of this as your share of the books going to the boys."

Kate sighed. "The schools were really that bad?"

"The principal's office had bullet-proof glass."

She chewed her lip in thought. It didn't make sense to put the boys in danger, if there was another way. "Tell me more about Alexis' school," she conceded.

* * *

><p>"Ballistics are back," said Esposito when Beckett walked into the precinct the next morning. "The slug from our girl who took a drive from the hotel window was fired from the same gun that killed the sculptor."<p>

Kate nodded, thoughtful.

"Only problem," Ryan continued, "is that we can't find any link between the two victims. We asked their friends and family, but none of them recognise the other girl."

"So what do a high school chemistry teacher and an artist have in common?" Kate mused. "Thanks for running that down, guys." She smiled at her partners. "Got you a coffee," she said, holding a tray with three Styrofoam cups.

"Nice," said Esposito, with a nod of thanks. He picked up two of the cups and handed one to Ryan. "So, what's our next move, boss?"

"You boys chase down the phone records, and I'll go visit Lanie, she if she's got anything for us."

* * *

><p>Lanie was a bust, but the phone records showed that both victims had called the same number the day of their murder. They chased down the number and found it belonged to a man with priors for theft and assault.<p>

Kate thought they finally had a break, but when they got to the guys apartment they found his body, cold on the couch, bullet holes in his chest matching the calibre of the weapon that had killed the two women.

Kate sighed in frustration. He obviously wasn't their killer. But now she just had another body that made no sense. The guy worked in vending machine repairs. So what on Earth did a sculptor, a science teacher and a vending machine worker have in common?

Their breakthrough finally came in the victims' financials. All three of them had deposits of the same amount from the same bank account, on the same days, going back months. So clearly they were into something together.

Just after six that evening, Kate was in the conference room with Ryan and Esposito, the victims' bank account and credit card files spread on the table before her, when she heard her phone ringing from under a small Everest of paperwork. She dug it out, and couldn't help the small smile that spread across her face at the sight of the caller ID.

"Hi, Castle," she answered.

"Making out on a stakeout. Too clichéd?" he asked.

"What?" she asked. _Was he suggesting…_

"Nikki and Rook. I was writing earlier while the boys were watching _The Lion King_ again. And, anyway, Nikki and Rook are on a stakeout, and they're waiting for this Russian mobster to make contact with his boss. And, you know, one thing leads to another… but I've been thinking that it's been done, you know? Maybe instead of a stake out they should go undercover." He paused, deep in thought.

"You do realise we have an active case going on? And you're calling me about a fictional Russian mob boss?"

"Oh, yeah. I was calling about the case too. How's it going?"

"Going through financials. I think we might finally be getting somewhere." She looked up, seeing Esposito holding a paper and trying to get her attention. "Hang on a sec, Castle." She nodded to Esposito to go ahead.

"Think we finally got a hit. Turns out all three of our victims have credit card charges from the same club down in the Bowery. Feel like a road trip?" Esposito asked.

Kate glanced at her watch. "No, you boys were here late last night," she said. "Go home. I can go check the club out."

"Ooo," said an excited voice in her ear. "Real life undercover! Can I come? This would be awesome research."

Kate paused for a moment, considering. Castle had been great about missing out on the case, and she wanted some way to make him feel involved. And it didn't hurt that she did her best work with him by her side.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll come home now for dinner and we can put the boys to bed. We'll see if we can get Martha or Alexis to keep an eye on them once they're in bed and then we'll head out and check out this club."

"You're the best!" Castle enthused.

"Right, I'll see you soon."

"Great. And let me know what you think about Nikki and Rook, because I'm still thinking that-"

"Goodbye Castle," she interrupted, rolling her eyes.

She looked across the table to see the two male detectives smirking at her. "So," said Ryan, raising one eyebrow. "What was Castle saying about making-out undercover? Anything you want to share with the class?"


	12. Chapter 12

Richard Castle surveyed the contents of his wardrobe. How was it possible that he had a walk-in closet bigger than some studio apartments, and yet had nothing to wear?

Beckett was working a case with a dead artist, high school science teacher and vending machine operator who were somehow linked. Their only clue was that all three had been to a club in the Bowery on the same nights.

So Castle and Beckett were headed on some real life undercover to the club.

And he had nothing to wear.

He needed something that was young and hip. _Oh God, did young people still use terms like 'hip'?_ he wondered. _Fresh,_ he thought instead. _I need an outfit that's young and fresh._

Obviously, he needed to look devastatingly handsome, so Kate would stop seeing him as the nice guy who slept in the bedroom on the floor below her, and starting thinking of him as the total hunk who slept half naked only thirty steps from her own bedroom. _Did young people still use terms like hunk?_ But, just as obviously, he didn't want to look too good and completely distract her from the case and the whole purpose of going to the club tonight.

_Yeah, right,_ he thought. _Like I've got a chance in hell of that happening._

Still, Richard Castle was nothing if not an optimist.

He reached for his green button down. Kate's favourite colour was green. But then he caught sight of the blue sweater next to it. Alexis said the blue brought out his eyes. His hand hovered between the two. Maybe he should go for black? He didn't know what kind of club they were going too, but black was always in, right? Plus, black sort of fit with being undercover. What if they were chased out of the club by the murderer and had to hide in the dark of night? That green button down would stick out like a sore thumb.

On the other hand, how was he supposed to stick out of the crowd in the club and make Beckett fall in love with him if he was wearing the same boring black jacket that she saw him in all the time.

He reached for the green button down with one hand, and then picked up the red, fitted shirt he had put down earlier because it was too flashy. He turned to the full length mirror and held the red shirt over his body. Then he swapped it for the green. Red again. Then green. Red. Green.

After 30 seconds of alternating the shirts, he realised he looked like flashing lights at Christmas. He let out a groan of frustration.

_Maybe the blue..._

"Castle!" he heard Beckett call from the lounge.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Where are you?" she called back, her voice sounding closer. Rick heard the sound of Beckett's heels making their way through his office and into his bedroom.

"In the closet," he called back.

Kate's pealing laughter rang out as she appeared at the entry to the walk-in closet. "I always suspected as much," she giggled. "I've seen those looks you shoot Esposito."

"What? Esposito is totally not my type!" he defended.

Kate laughed again.

"And I'm not gay!" he added as an afterthought.

"Well Castle, you're the one shouting about being in the closet. It's the 21st century. You don't have to hide anymore." Kate replied in a mollifying tone.

_Sometimes, the best defence is a good offense,_ Castle mused. He took a step toward her and dropped his voice half an octave. "My dear detective, I am not gay, and would very happily prove that to you at your earliest convenience." He shot her his most ruggedly handsome smile.

Kate broke eye contact, talking a step back. She glanced at the shirts clutched in each of his hands and shook her head. Reaching past him she grabbed the black shirt he had earlier rejected. "I'd go with black," she advised. "Ready in five minutes?"

Castle nodded, disappointed she hadn't taken the bait. Oh well, there was always tonight.

* * *

><p>"Right, so, what's our angle?" Rick asked.<p>

"Angle?" Beckett asked distractedly as she eased the car into a vacant space about two blocks from the address of the club.

"You know, for the club? Oh, I know! It's our third date, and I'm bringing you out here to impress you. If anyone asks where we met, we'll say at work. We can say we're Lawyers. No wait! That might make them suspicious, if they're doing something illegal. Hmm… we could be teachers. I teach English, obviously. You take Gym. No wait! Russian! Your name is Svetlana and you're the new Russian teacher. You can do your accent again."

"Castle, I don't think this is the kind of undercover that requires a convoluted back story," Kate replied as she undid her seat beat and got out of the car.

They began walking down the street toward the club. They hadn't made it the full two blocks before Beckett couldn't stand Castle's pouting any more.

"Ok," she conceded. "We'll have a cover story."

Castle grinned.

"You can be my brother," Kate smirked.

Well, that certainly shut him up.

* * *

><p>There was a lady with a large snake curled around her bikini clad body. On stage, a stripper gyrated to a thumping base soundtrack. A man on a smaller stage in the corner was juggling knives, and Castle turned toward the bar just in time to see a bartender breathe fire across the room.<p>

"This place is amazing!" he breathed. "How have I never been here before?"

"You think this is good, you should see some of the clubs I go to, Castle," Kate said.

Rick's jaw hit the floor. "Wait, what?!"

He turned to Kate, but she was already making her way toward the bartender, looking for information.

_Beckett better not be holding out on me_, he thought. _If she knows cool clubs she isn't taking me too…_

His train of thought trailed off as he noticed Beckett talking to the bartender. She laughed, flicking her hair back.

_Wait, is she flirting?_ thought Castle with a mental frown.

Kate lent across the bar, smiling at the (totally sleazy slimeball and in no way attractive) bartender, straightening her shoulders slightly to bring attention to her cleavage.

The (totally sleazy slime ball and probably a serial killer) bartender smiled in appreciation.

She obviously needed rescuing. "Don't worry Svetlana, I'm coming!" he shouted, dashing across the room.

* * *

><p>Castle unlocked the door to the loft, Beckett close behind him.<p>

"Hey, Alexis," said the detective, closing the front door behind her. "Were the boys any trouble?"

The teenager looked from the couch were she was reading through a large textbook. "Nope. They slept the whole time you've been gone. How was the club? Get any leads?"

"Maybe," said Kate, struggling to prevent a yawn. She flopped down on the couch next to Alexis.

"Want a drink?" Castle offered as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Nah," said Kate, resting her head back on the couch, her eyes sliding shut. "I'm beat. I think I'm going to head off to bed."

Castle took a bottle of water from the fridge. "I just don't get it," he said. "A metal sculptor, a high school science teacher and a vending machine salesman walk into a burlesque bar and suddenly wind up rich."

"And then dead," Kate pointed out.

"It sounds like a bad joke," Castle noted.

"You'll figure it out," said Alexis.

Kate nodded, her eyes still closed in exhaustion, heading lolling back against the couch. She should get up and go to bed. Everything would be clearer in the morning. But the couch was so comfortable…

"Alright you. Bed." Castle said, nudging her slightly.

"Don't wanna," she mumbled. Her bed was all the way upstairs. Couldn't she just sleep here?

"C'mon Kate," said Castle, his voice gentle. He grabbed her arm and helped pull her into a standing position. "Don't make me carry you," he threatened.

Kate half walked, half stubbled toward the stairs. As her hand met the banister, she looked back the couch. "Bed time, Alexis?"

The redhead held up the textbook in her arms. "I think I'll study a bit long for my chem test on Friday."

"'Kay," mumbled Kate. "Don't stay up too late." She smiled and wished Castle a good night before making the heroic trek up the stairs to her room. She poked her head into the boys' room, seeing them both fast asleep, and then continued on to Martha's room. _Well, my room now_, she thought sleepily.

The moment her head hit the pillow, she was fast asleep.

* * *

><p>The following morning chaos reigned in the loft. Castle had got the boys enrolled at Alexis' fancy private school the day before, and today was their first day. Which meant hurrying the boys through breakfast, and getting them dressed and trying to pack all their school things into bags, before rushing to get them to school on time.<p>

Kate drove them all in her Crown Vic and couldn't believe how strange it felt. Six months ago she was driving around the city all alone, and now she had Castle in the passenger seat, and three kids in the back, making the school run.

It was almost unbelievably domestic.

Traffic was horrible, but they managed to get to the school before class started. They found the boys' classroom and introduced themselves to the teacher, a kind young woman named Ms Aldrin. Kate checked four times that the boys knew where to meet them after school, and then Ms Aldrin was ushering them off to their seats, and Kate and Castle were on their way to the 12th.

As wonderful as it was to have Castle back by her side, Kate couldn't help but worry about the boys as they drove away from the school. What if the other kids asked about why they had started at a new school? Or asked about the boys' parents? Would they be teased for their poor background in a school full of the sons and daughters of wealthy New Yorkers?

They parked in the undercover garage of the precinct. Kate headed straight upstairs to the homicide floor while Castle detoured down the block to the Starbucks on the corner for their morning caffeine hit, since they hadn't had time to fit in a coffee with the pandemonium of the morning school preparations. Kate wondered if every morning would be this bad and was exhausted all over again.

When Castle emerged from the lift at homicide, he was greeted with a very familiar scene. Ryan and Esposito were sitting at their desks, holding phones to their ears. Both seemed to be on hold, but they each greeted him with a "welcome back" and a fist bump as he walked past.

Beckett was in her usual spot before the murder board, leaning against her desk. She held a white board marker in her right hand, tapping it idly on her chin, her brows furrowed in thought as she stared at the writing before her.

He fell into place at her side, handing her a cup.

"Thanks," she murmured, smiling. She took a sip of the liquid and let out a contented sigh.

"So," said Castle. "A metal sculptor, a high school science teacher and a vending machine salesman walk into a burlesque bar and suddenly wind up rich."

Kate remembered his words from last night. "And then dead," she finished.

"Science teacher, artist, salesman," Castle was muttering under his breath. "Wait! They were cooking meth! It's just like _Breaking Bad_. They all need money, and after a few drinks, the science teacher says 'Well we could always make meth' and then suddenly it seems like a good idea."

"I don't know," Kate mused. "Lanie said the bodies didn't have any traces of drugs."

Castle slumped a bit in defeat. "Maybe not drugs. But they were making something illegal that was making them a lot of money."

Kate paused, rolling the words around in her head.

"That's it!" she said.

"I know," said Castle, dejectedly. "If only we could figure out the illegal thing they were making. We can't go to a judge and say 'he dude, these guys were doing something illegal, just give us a warrant and we'll get back to you on what it is'."

"No, Castle, you said it. "They were making something illegal that was making them a lot of money. A metal sculptor, an artist and a vending machine guy. They were making illegal money. It's a counterfeit ring."

"An artist, a metal sculptor, and a salesman to supply the bills. Of course. The only thing missing…"

_Is ink_. Kate though. Then she remembered the owner of the club they went too. _A tattoo artist._

Kate and Rick turned to face each other. "I know who the killer is!" they said in unison.

Behind them, Ryan and Esposito rolled their eyes.

* * *

><p>As they pulled up in the car park beside the club, Beckett turned to him. "It's no use asking you to wait in the car, is it?" she asked.<p>

"Please," he scoffed.

"Just…don't get shot, ok?" she replied.

He smiled, reaching out his hand to touch hers as it rested on the seat. "I won't if you won't," he promised.

They smiled at each other briefly, then got out of the car. Ryan and Esposito made their way over from their car behind them. "We'll all go in together?" asked Ryan.

Beckett nodded and the foursome made their way to the entrance of the building. Kate tried the door and found it open. Inside, they could hear the noise of someone packing hurriedly.

They recognised the voice of the tattoo artist, "Hurry up," she was shouting. "We gotta get out of here now!"

The three detectives and the writer made their way noiselessly to the back room. "Freeze," yelled Beckett, her gun pointed at the woman who was stuffing cash into a large bag.

The suspect dropped the bag, screaming for her husband to help. Esposito made his way to the doorway at the other end of the room, his gun drawn, looking for the husband. Beckett kept her gun trained on the woman as Ryan pulled out his cuffs.

Castle heard a faint scuff from behind and turned to find the suspect's husband emerging from behind a stand of shelves, the gun in his hands pointed at Kate.

"Gun!" he screamed, and dove on Kate, just as the man fired. The bullet missed them both, but they landed heavily on the concrete floor. In the moment it took for him to make sure neither of them were hurt, both the woman and the man had made a run for it.

"Damn it!" said Kate. "I'll go after her. Wait here, Castle."

"What if they come back?" said the writer in fear.

Kate looked at him for a moment. She pulled her spare gun. "Here," she said, handing it to him.

He nodded his thanks, and she ran from the room.

Rick stood in the empty room, his ears trained for the sound of Beckett catching the suspects. But what he heard instead was the sound of heels on the concrete. He turned and saw the tattoo artist running out the back door of the club, the bag filled with money in her arms. She must have given Beckett the slip and doubled back.

"Stop!" he shouted, giving chase.

He could hear Ryan and Esposito's shouts from outside. "Where did he go?" Esposito was shouting.

"I think he went around this way," Ryan shouted.

"I don't see him," Esposito shouted.

Suddenly someone fired at him. He ducked and turned, running for the door he had seen the woman disappear out of.

He emerged in an alley way, catching sight of Kate, her gun held in her outstretched arms.

"NYPD!" she screamed. "Freeze!"

He started to lower his gun, and then caught sight of the woman he had been perusing at the other end of the alley. She had a gun pointed a Kate's back. He brought the gun up, tried to get a clean shot.

"Freeze! Castle, on the ground, now!" Kate shouted, her eyes still trained on him, her gun pointed unerringly in his direction.

_No,_ he wanted to say. _I'm not shooting you, she's behind you_.

But there wasn't any time.

Any second now, the tattoo artist was going to fire her gun and shoot Kate in the back. Of course, if he didn't lower his gun, Kate was going to shoot him, without realising that he wasn't trying to shoot her.

He could very well die today.

But if he didn't, Kate Beckett would.

And that was unacceptable.

He focused on the woman at the end of the alley and fired. A quarter of a second later, Kate fired back.

Castle heard a noise from behind him and turned. The male suspect they had been chasing was lying on the ground behind him, a bullet in his shoulder. His eyes focused on the gun in the suspect's hand. The guy had been just about to shoot him. And Kate had saved his life.

Thirty feet away, Kate had turned and noted the female suspect behind her that Castle had shot. Her eyes went wide as they saw the gun in her hand.

If it wasn't for Castle, she would have been shot in the back, she realised.

For a moment, Kate and Rick turned and locked eyes. Both of them were breathing heavily in relief. Ryan and Esposito emerged from the building and took custody of the two suspects.

Castle exhaled harshly again, and locked eyes with Beckett. He tilted his head to the side, silently asking if she was ok.

Her eyes went wide, communicating her shock, and then she nodded her head once in thanks. She lifted an eyebrow, clearly asking if he was ok too.

He run a hand through his hair, nodding.

_Well, nothing like going back to work with a bang,_ he thought.

* * *

><p>"So they were all sweet with the counterfeiting operation, until the loan shark found out and wanted to take over the deal." Castle explained to Montgomery.<p>

"And the club owners weren't too keen on that." Kate continued.

"Turns out, the tattoo artist had a record," said Castle.

"Did a nickel for running over her boyfriend," Kate interjected.

"So when she wasn't keen to give up the operation, she figured she'd just bump off everyone who stood in her way." Castle finished.

Montgomery smiled. "It's good to have you back," he said with a smile. "That was a great story."

Castle and Beckett looked over at each other and smiled.

"How about later, you tell me the story of how Castle got you gun?" he asked.

"Oh!" said Castle, looking at his watch. "Is that the time? I better go pick up the boys and Alexis from school." He headed for the door.

"You better head off too, Detective," said Montgomery, nodding at Beckett.

"Sir?" said Kate, smiling. After the day she'd had, finsihing early sounded like Heaven.

"Just make sure you take the IA paperwork with you. I expected it to be completed and on my desk first thing in the morning."

"Yes, Sir," said Kate, although the smile looked at little more forced this time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note**: I'm ashamed to say it's been 9 months since I've updated. I'm not sure if anyone is still interested in this story (or even remembers it!) but I'm back writing and will do my best to get back to posting regularly. To everyone who's reviewed or PM me encouraging me, it means the world to me. Thank you.

This chapter features some dialog from the Season 3 episode 'Under the Gun'

* * *

><p>Kate couldn't believe how much her life had changed. Six months ago, she lived alone in her beautiful apartment, worked with a fantastic team of dedicated detectives that she trusted with her life and had a plucky author side-kick who brought her coffee, frustrated the hell out of her and then made her laugh with a freedom she hadn't felt since her mother died.<p>

Then everything had gone to hell.

Her apartment was blown up, destroying almost everything she owned, including all she had left of her mother. And while she was still reeling from that, the death of her only cousin – leaving Kate with custody of her cousin's two young sons – had left her in free fall.

Despite all the darkness, there had been glimmers of hope; her friends and family, who so resolutely stood by her.

Espo and Ryan, who stepped up their hours at work so she take the time she needed.

Her dad, who gave her new mementos of her mother to replace the one she lost.

Lanie, who let the detective cry on her shoulder, then took her to a thrift store that specialised in samples and second hand designer gear to help her start to rebuild her wardrobe.

Alexis, who was always free to babysit or to help the boys with homework or even to build an elaborate fort in the living room.

But Castle. God, there wasn't even words for the gratitude she felt. He'd taken her in without question when her apartment had blown up. He'd even made it seem like she was doing him a favour by house-sitting while he was away for the summer. Then there was that little hint of disappointment he'd worn, whenever she talked about moving out, until she'd pushed thoughts of 'overstaying her welcome' out of her mind.

When Maggie died, it was Castle who drove them upstate, Castle who arranged the funeral, Castle who pulled every string to make sure Kate got temporary custody of Maggie's twin boys. And when it became obvious that a homeless, single, New York detective wouldn't get permanent custody, it was Castle who suggested they do it together, and wouldn't take no for an answer.

So, now she lived in possibly the most gorgeous four bedroom loft apartment in Manhattan with her favourite writer, with whom she shared care of three children (well, two officially, but she would ride through the gates of Hell for Alexis, and that made her the teenager hers as far as she was concerned).

And while she would give anything for the boys to have their mother back, and she had moments where she missed the freedom of her old life and the speed of the changes seemed overwhelming, for the most part, Kate felt a rush of an emotion she hadn't allowed to fell in years. Despite everything, Kate Beckett was happy.

* * *

><p>"So, who's the lucky guy?"<p>

Kate looked up to see Castle pass through the doorway, pulling on a pair of gloves. She'd been called to the crime scene in the middle of breakfast this morning, and had to leave Castle to finish getting the kids ready for school. In a moment that could only be described as utterly odd domesticity, he'd promised to join her at the dead body once he'd done the school run. Kate figured that was not likely a conversation most parents had over Lucky Charms.

Coming back to the present, she turned back to the body. "Richard Castle, meet Deon Carver. Bail bondsman. This is his office. He walked into a B & E last night, and before he had a chance to use his registered firearm, our killer knocked him over the head with this."

Castle eyes lit up when he saw the weapon in her hand. "A sharp shooter award? That is ironic on so many levels." He paused, considering. "No. Just two."

Kate couldn't resist a smile, despite the circumstances. "I thought you'd like that. Kids get off to school ok?"

Castle nodded, waving away her concern. "Ran off without even looking back. Seems like just last week we were dropping them off for their first day."

"That was last week," she reminded him.

"Oh, yeah." Castle chuckled. "Any leads?" he asked, gesturing to the body.

Lanie spoke up from her position across the room. "Our killer left a partial shoe print in Carver's blood, probably while wiping the trophy clean. Shoe print isn't complete enough to tell the size, but the tread marks should be easy to identify."

"And then there's the 911 call," Kate continued. "Before leaving, our killer was nice enough to call 9-1-1 and leave the phone off the hook."

"Someone was feeling a little guilty?"

Lanie snorted. "Not too guilty. The call came in at eleven. I'm estimating time of death around ten."

_Interesting,_ Kate thought. "So, our perp had about an hour to ransack the place before he made the call." She looked around the room, trying to determine what was missing.

At her side, Castle was mirroring her, his eyes searching for a clue. "What do you think the killer was looking for?" he wondered.

"Money? I mean, bail bondsmen often get paid in cash. And 10% of a million would be enough to tear up a place. Ryan and Esposito are taking a look around the building for any security cameras," said Beckett. Castle, nodded thoughtfully, considering the idea.

Lanie finished up with the body, while Kate and Castle continued to search the room. Suddenly, the radio at her hip buzzed with static.

"That's a negative on the cameras, boss."

She unclipped the radio from her belt and lifted it with a sigh. "Ok, thanks Espo." Kate paused as a burst of static came through the walkie. It almost sounded like interference. She took a step closer to the desk in the centre of the room and the interference increased. She moved her radio closer to each of the items on the desk. When she put the walkie next to a calculator, the static went crazy.

"Why would a calculator cause feedback?" Castle asked.

Kate felt along the back of the calculator, she propped open the battery compartment to find a tiny listening device. "It's not a calculator. It's a bug."

"Ooo!" said Castle with interest, taking it from her hand. "A wireless RF transmitter to be precise. Not to be confused with the more advanced infrared signal-burst device."

"Book research?" she asked.

"Nanny cam. So, do you think that the robbery was just a pretence for the placement of the bug and then the killer was caught in the act?"

She thought about it for a moment, but one thing didn't add up. "Well, it's not Watergate, Castle. If the point was to bug Carver's office, then why leave it here once he's dead?" She paused, considering. "Maybe the killer was coming back to collect his bug, and Carver caught him in the act? But again, why leave it?"

"Maybe the killer was listening in on the bug, and Carver said something that caused the killer to fly into a murderous rage and come in to the office to kill Carver," Castle suggested.

"Then why ransack the place? And why not take the bug with him, to avoid leaving a trail?"

Kate looked around the room in confusion. Something about this case just didn't add up.

Good thing she loved the odd ones.

* * *

><p>They headed back to the precinct. Ryan started running down the shoe print to try and identify the type of shoe worn by the killer while Esposito went to canvas the building. Kate and Castle called up a list of all of Carver's clients and then narrowed it down to anyone who had a violent history, then sent those mug shots to Espo to help with the canvas. Castle looked though the rest of the clients to make sure they weren't missing anything, while Kate tried to track down the bug.<p>

"You know Castle, I'm impressed. Our victim's office was bugged, and you haven't once tried to blame this on the CIA."

"A poorly manufactured commercial low radius wireless RF transmitter?" the writer snorted. "If Uncle Sam was bugging someone, I think they'd do better than that."

"Well, if I'd known that I could have saved a half hour of sitting on hold, waiting for law enforcement to confirm that Carver wasn't a person of interest in any investigations. Sometimes I think I underestimate you, Castle."

The writer proved just how much he'd changed when he merely smiled in reply, instead of shooting back a witty retort.

Soon after that, Carver's wife arrived. She was obviously upset, but not able to name anyone she thought might have murdered her husband, noting that he never talked about work with her. After saying goodbye to the woman and typing up the notes from their interrogation, they headed to the morgue to see if Lanie had any answers for them.

"I found this in your vic's sock," Lanie said, handing them a piece of paper.

Kate looked at the drawing on the paper and looked closely. "This just looks like the world's least interesting doodle," she commented dismissively.

"Then why was it hidden in his sock?" asked Castle, taking the paper from her. He turned it upside down, then held it up to the light and turned it over, then turned it upside down again. After thirty seconds of staring at the paper, he dropped his arms in defeat. "Ok, I got nothing."

"Whatever it is, I doubt it's worth killing over," said Kate, sceptically.

"So why was he hiding it in his sock?" the writer mused.

Kate felt her cellphone buzz in her pocket and pulled it out. Seeing Esposito's name on the caller ID, she hit speaker. "Hey Espo, what you got?"

"I was showing the photos of Carver's clients around the neighbourhood, and I got a hit on a guy called Random Pierce."

"Someone actually named their kid Random?" Castle asked. "No wonder he turned to a life of crime."

"Anyway," continued Esposito, "Random just did two years at Five Points, and then was caught in another B&E a week after he got out. He was supposed to appear in court today, but didn't show. Judge issued a bench warrant for his arrest at 9 this morning. I've tracked down his last known address."

"Good work. Send through the address and we'll meet you there." _This could just be the break we need,_ Kate thought.

* * *

><p>They met Ryan and Esposito outside Random's apartment building. Esposito showed them a photo of Random while Ryan did a little recon.<p>

"Only two exits from the building," Ryan told them when he returned. "Random's got a record of evading arrest, so Espo and I can head round the back while you and Castle go in through the front."

Kate nodded her agreement, and the two male detectives took off for the back of the building. Kate paused for a moment, waiting to give them time to get into position before she and Castle headed in the front of the building.

While she waited, Kate lent back on the hood of the Crown Vic and let out a sigh of utter exhaustion. Beside her, Castle laughed.

"It is wrong that I'm enjoying a murder investigation as a tranquil break from reality?" she asked. "How on Earth can two kids be so much work?"

Castle smiled. "You'll get used to it," he promised.

"How do people do this? How do they have kids and work full time? How did you manage to write best sellers while taking care of Alexis? I feel like I can barely string a sentence together."

"The boys are easy. You can't imagine how much work they are when they're little. I don't think I slept for about four years after we had Alexis. And she was an easy baby."

Kate couldn't help but let out a groan, just imaging it. "We are never having more kids," she vowed.

Beside her, Castle froze.

Startled, Kate tried to think of what she'd said that had shocked him so much. She ran over what she'd just said in her head. _We are never having more kids._ Implying that if she _was_ going to have more kids, Castle would be the father.

For a moment, the detective floundered for a way to correct her Freudian slip. Eventually she just gave up. Deep down, she thought they both knew it was the truth, anyway. She went with changing the subject instead.

"Come on, Castle, Espo and Ryan should be in position now. Let's head on up."

"I don't think we need to go up there," the writer replied.

"What?" she asked, confused. Was he going to challenge her on what she'd just said? She felt her heart beat faster in anticipation.

"I think Random is coming to us," he said, gesturing to the side of the building, where a guy was climbing down a drainpipe on the outside of the building.

Kate ran over. "NYPD. Stop!"

The guy looked up at her shout, and they could clearly see his face matched the mug shot of their suspect. Before they could move, he jumped the rest of the way to the ground, taking off at a sprint.

Kate and Castle took off chasing after him. Random ran towards the street corner, and then out into the street. A car coming in the opposite direction suddenly swerved to hit him. The driver jumped from the car and ran to Random before he could get up, quickly securing his hands in a pair of cuffs.

"Hey, what are you doing with my perp?" shouted Kate angrily.

The man who had apprehended Random looked over. "Don't worry, we're on the same team," he said.

"Royce?" Kate asked.

"Hey, kiddo," Royce replied.

Kate stared at Royce, unable to speak.

Castle broke the silence. "Nice driving."

"Thanks," said Royce, finally breaking eye contact with Kate. He held out the hand that wasn't holding Random's collar. "Mike Royce. Bounty Hunter."

"Richard Castle, Writer," Castle replied, shaking hands.

"Random Pierce, Completely Innocent," commented Random.

Royce rolled his eyes.

Kate unconsciously took a step closer to Castle. "Royce used to be on the job," she told him.

"On the job, she says. Like I was just any old cop! I was her training officer, you know. Taught her everything she knows."

"Not quite everything," said Kate quietly.

"Well, if I'm intruding on your reunion, I'd be happy to go," said Random.

"The only place you're going is jail," Kate replied.

* * *

><p>"I wasn't running away. I was jogging," Random asserted.<p>

Kate dropped herself wearily into the chair opposite him in the interrogation room and rolled her eyes. "So, what were you doing climbing down the side of a building?"

"Cross-training. Better cardiovascular workout."

Kate brought her hands down on the interrogation room table with a bang. "Random, you did a stint at Five Points Correctional and within a week of your release, you were breaking into someone's apartment."

"That was a misunderstanding. I wrote down my friend's address wrong."

"Really? So, what do you call killing Deon Carver? Mistaken identity?"

"Deon's dead?"

"Nice try. You have a history of breaking and entering, and I have a victim whose offices were ransacked. And you were seen arguing with Carver three hours before he was killed."

"He invited me to dinner 'cause he wanted to stress the importance of my attendance at court this morning. And, seeing as he had 100k on the hook if I skipped—"

"Which you did," Kate interjected.

"My alarm clock didn't go off."

"Or you were so exhausted after killing Carver that you slept right through it."

"Come on! Three hours after we had dinner, I was shoplifting at Bookmart uptown!"

"Your alibi for killing your bail bondsman was that you were too busy committing another crime to have time to murder him?"

"Yes, well, I forgot to pay. I was so used to being in a prison library. I tried to tell the security dude that, but he had me in some ninja choke hold. Luckily for me, I was able to slip away before the cops came. Sucker! But that guard would totally remember me."

Kate let Esposito take Random back to holding while Ryan ran down his alibi. In the bullpen, she found Mike Royce chatting with Castle.

"You better not be giving him any blackmail material," she warned.

"Which one of us are you talking too?" Castle asked.

She frowned, considering the dirt they each had on her. "Both of you."

Ryan hung up his phone and walked over. "Security confirms Random was busy stealing _The Da Vinci Code_ at the time of Carver's murder."

"_The Da Vinci Code?"_ said Castle in horror. "That derivative, uninspired and insipid waste of paper? A novel which Salman Rushie said was 'so bad it gives bad novels a bad name'. Random is definitely our murderer. Only a serial killer could have such bad taste."

"Is he always like this?" Royce asked.

"Worse," Beckett deadpanned.

"A blight on novels everywhere! For a while after that book was released I was ashamed to say I was a mystery writer," Castle continued. "If an infinite amount of monkeys sat at an infinite amount of typewriters and typed for the rest of history, none of them could happen upon such a random collection of drivel."

"So, I guess that means I can take Random off your hands and get him down to central booking?" said Royce.

"And claim the bounty?" Kate asked. "Go ahead." She waved a hand in the direction of the cells.

"A book which Stephan Fry described as 'complete loose stool water'. A shame on world literature. And once finally being released from prison, this is the book that Random decided to steal?" The writer shook his head mournfully. "I feel for the future of humanity. "

Kate exchanged a raised eyebrow with Royce, wondering how long Castle could continue decrying Dan Brown's complete works. Fortunately, they didn't have opportunity to find out, as the alarm suddenly sounded from Castle's phone. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen, cancelling the alarm.

He held up the phone to show Kate. "I better get going if I'm going to get the kids from school."

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Kate. She hadn't been thinking of the boys at all. She had no idea what time it was. In fact, if you had asked her a minute ago, she wondered if she would have even remembered she had kids.

It was moments like this that Kate feared she would be a terrible mother. Good moms put their family first. They were always thinking of their children. They didn't get so wrapped up in murder investigations that they forgot their children even existed. If the alarm hadn't gone off on Castle's phone, would she have even remembered to pick them up after work?

"Wouldn't have pegged you for a family man," said Royce.

"Most important thing in the world to me," replied Castle with a beaming smile.

That was true, Kate thought. Castle would never forget the kids.

"Anyway, it was good to meet you, Royce. Thanks for those great stories." Castle said, with a sly look at Kate.

Roy laughed. "Same to you, Castle. I better get going myself, and get this guy down to Bookings. Hey, Beckett, how about a drink tonight? We can catch up."

Kate paused for a moment, considering. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Castle very obviously not making eye contact with her, unnecessary straightening a pile of files on her desk before leaving.

"Sounds good," she replied. Castle's eyes snapped up to hers for a minute, before quickly darting away. "Why don't you come over for dinner?" she asked.

Castle's eyes darted back to hers. They locked eyes for a minute in silent conversation.

Apparently satisfied, Castle nodded and gave her a brief smile, then headed for the elevator.

After a moment she realised Royce was giving her a strange look. Apparently she was too busy watching Castle's retreating form to hear his reply.

"Sorry, I missed that," Kate said, willing herself not to blush.

Fortunately, Royce seemed oblivious to the source of her confusion. "I said that sounds great," he repeated. He headed over to the holding cells. "Text me your address," he shouted over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>"Zeke, give it!"<p>

"No! It's my turn."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not, stupid!"

"Is too, poo head!"

"Right!" Kate bellowed. "It's nobody's turn, because dinner will be ready soon, which means you need to turn off the computer games and you both need to wash your hands and help me set the table."

"It's not a computer game," said Zeke.

"It's an _X-box," _Eli finished. The twins exchanged a 'can-you-believe-this-lady' eye roll of solidarity.

"Do I look like I care? It gets turned off and you both lend a hand, please."

"I'm using the bathroom first!" shouted Zeke, running toward the stairs.

"Well then I'm using Uncle Rick's bathroom," Eli shouted, running toward Castle bedroom.

Kate made her way over to the kitchen, where Castle was pulling a dish from the oven.

"Sugar quill!" He shouted, suddenly. He dropped the tray and pulled his index finger into his mouth. "Burn," he explained.

"Sugar quill?" she asked.

"Trying to cut the bad language in front of impressionable ears."

Kate looked over at Castle, who looked positively adorable sucking on his burnt finger, with his hair mussed and a bright pink apron on. She couldn't help but smile at the sight. Castle smiled bashfully back at her, and suddenly his messy hair looked like bed head, and the finger in his mouth only made her notice his lips, and she was suddenly filled with the need to be much, much closer to them.

There was a sudden pounding, as Zeke come barrelling down the stairs. "I want to put the knives on the table!"

The moment broken, Kate looked away, fighting the heat that was suddenly flooding her face. When had it gotten so hot in the kitchen?

There was suddenly a loud knocking at the door, and Kate was glad to escape from Castle's piercing look, and messy hair and bright pink apron. "That'll be Royce," she said to no one in particular, making her way over to the door.

Sure enough, her old training officer stook on the other side of the door. His was looking down at the phone in his hand, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Katie! It is you." He held up the phone. "I was just checking the address again. Pay rates have obviously gone up a hell of a lot since I was on the force."

Kate stepped back and he walked in through the open doorway. "Wow," he muttered when he caught sight of the apartment.

"Royce, hi," said Castle from the kitchen, holding up a spatula in greeting.

A smug grin broke out on Royce's face. "Oh, I see," he commented with a look at Kate.

"I want the knifes!" shouted Eli, sparing Kate from having to come up with an explanation.

"No it's my turn!" Zeke shouted back.

"Give it!"

"Stop it!"

"Boys! We do not fight in this house. Zeke, you can put the knives and forks on the table. Eli, would you please get the glasses. Carefully."

Zeke smirked in triumph, poking his tongue out at his brother.

"What did I just say? You'll put that tongue back in your mouth or you won't be getting any desert."

Kate turned back to Royce, who was still standing just inside the doorway, his jaw hanging slack in shock. "God, how long was I away for?"

* * *

><p>The following morning, Kate yawned at her desk, trying to focus on the words on the page in front of her. Catching up with Royce, reminiscing about her rookie days, had been a lot of fun and they'd talked well into the night. She was paying for it now.<p>

It had been weird, seeing Royce's reaction to the boys. She'd explained how she'd gotten custody of them when her cousin died.

Royce had looked confused. "You have a cousin?" he'd asked.

It was strange to think he hadn't known that. She'd forgotten how closed off she had been, even to those closest to her, before Castle. Not that she was necessarily that much more open now, but Castle had a way of dragging it all out of her anyway.

Once she'd hastily corrected Royce's assumption that she was the boys' mother, he kept saying how strange it was to see her around kids; that he'd never seen her as the 'family' type. It bothered her, reinforcing all those feelings of doubt she had over the own abilities.

The truth was, the way she'd been when she knew Royce, she wouldn't have seen herself as the family type either. She'd changed a lot since then, a large part of which could be attributed to the strength and trust of the men by her side each day.

But just because she'd changed, it didn't mean she'd changed into the kind of person who was a good mom.

Something else Royce said last night had been bothering her too. Castle had taken the boys off for their bath, leaving her and Royce to catch up. "I'm a bit surprised you guys work together so well." Royce had said, looking up at the top of the stairs where Castle had disappeared.

"Why's that?" Kate had asked, a tad defensively. "Didn't think I was his type?"

"Kate," said Royce. "You're everyone's type. I just didn't this he was yours."

Kate had had no response to that bold statement. Even now, she didn't know why it bothered her so much. With all the upheaval in her life at the moment, the last thing Kate needed was a relationship to complicate things, let alone a relationship with Castle. If things went wrong, she could lose everything. Yet there was some part of her that was disappointed the writer had never pushed for something more between them. Still-

"Yo, Beckett," Eposito called from across the bullpen, breaking into her introspection. "I reckon we got a lead. Lanie said when she was about to cut into our vic's skull, she noticed he had a little cross of oil on his forehead, like someone tried to give him last rites."

Ryan came over to join them, nodding a hello to Beckett. "So we looked for some kind of religious link and it turns out our vic made several donations to a church in the South Bronx run by Father Aaron Low."

"Good work," praised Beckett. "Let's go pick him up."

* * *

><p>Kate got a weird vibe off the priest. He claimed to know Deon Carver because he was helping him and his wife through marital troubles. It hadn't taken them long to notice that the shoes he was wearing matched the prints left at the crime scene.<p>

The good Father claimed the vic was already dead when he got there, and he had just administer last rites and called 911. Kate rather doubted that and had been all sent to charge the priest with murder, until Ryan had interrupted their interrogation to say that he had finally chased down the owner of the bug they had found in the vic's office: Brooke Carver, the victim's wife. Unfortunately, that rather lent credence to Father Aaron's assertions of marital discord, and gave them another person of interest to chase.

Eventually it was Castle who figured out that the scribble they found on their vic was a treasure map to a 10 million dollar jewel heist, buried in a cemetery.

Of course.

Kate had got a rep around the prescient for having a certain propensity for the 'weird' cases even before Castle had stitched his shadow to her foot. But since the writer joined the team, it seemed all their cases wound up being downright odd.

Which was how she found herself in a cemetery, after dark, a shovel in her hand and her gun on her hip. They headed in the direction of the grave from the 'treasure map' only to find the victim's wife standing over an open grave, apparently digging for the same treasure they were trying to find.

Of course, the vic's wife pulled a gun, and then Kate pulled her gun, and then an old man ex-con from the original jewel heist emerged from behind the trees with a gun, and then Royce – traitorous bastard – appeared with a gun, and Ryan and Esposito came from the other direction with – of course – their guns drawn.

There were entirely too many guns. In fact the only one without a gun was Castle. And the thought that any one of these people could kill her partner – _her partner_ – at any moment was terrifying. If this progressed to an all-out shoot out, as was looking increasingly likely, Castle was completely defenceless. From the angle he was standing, he could even be hit by friendly fire from Ryan or Esposito, trying to get a shot off at the vic's wife.

"Wait," cried Beckett, her mind going at a million miles a minute. She had to get Castle safe. "Maybe we should make sure that treasure if really here, before someone dies for it." She indicated the open grave before them. "Castle, if you would."

Castle looked down at the open grave, then back at her face, incredulously. "You want me to?" he gestured to the grave and then looked back at her face. He sighed. "Why me?" he asked the heavens theatrically.

"Because you're the only one without a gun," she pointed out.

He looked back at her, and she hoped he got it. There wasn't much safety in hiding in an open grave, but it was hell of a lot safer that standing above it, with six loaded guns and the tension reaching boiling point.

"You got a plan, kid?" Royce asked.

She didn't. Her mind hadn't been able to contemplate anything beyond her consuming need to get Castle to safety. "Not one that I plan to share with you," she replied.

"Maybe you should show us all something," Royce continued.

She had a split second of indecision – could Royce really be trusted? – but apparently Castle had no such concerns, because he called "Hey! I found something."

The moment the ex-con and the vic's wife looked over at him, he pitched his shovel up, flinging dirt into their faces.

Beckett wasted no time, diving on the vic's wife and securing her weapon, even as Royce did the same to the elderly ex-con.

"Just like old times, hey kid?" said Royce.

"I can't believe you made us give up that treasure," whined Castle, as they got into the car after taking the suspects down to booking. They'd filed their paperwork, got a "Good job" from Montgomery, and she was happy to be headed home after a long day.

She checked the time on the dash as they pulled into the parking garage under the loft. "Think the kids will still be up?" she asked.

"Alexis is good, but …" he trailed off, shrugging. Kate knew what he meant. Alexis was an amazing babysitter ("Big sister," corrected a little voice in Kate's head that sounded remarkably like Alexis), but the boys had been acting out a bit lately. Nothing too bad. Castle said they were acting out in response to the death of their mother. Kate thought they were pushing the boundaries of this new situation, testing to see who would break first.

(Kate had known going into this that she would be the disciplinarian parent, and Castle the indulgent one. It was funny to see how it was playing out though.)

She wasn't exactly expecting the scene that greeted them as they opened the door to the loft, however. From the doorway they could see the back of Alexis head as she sat on the couch. "_Tell me, Potter, where would you look if I asked you to bring me a bezor?"_ said the red head with a sneer in her voice.

Kate and Castle silently walked further into the room. Looking over the back of the couch, she watched Alexis, an open book in her hands, and a twin pressed in closely on each side, all three seemingly utterly engrossed the in the story. Just looking at the scene made something in her chest clench.

There was a tugging on her arm, and she looked up to see Castle's smiling face as he tugged her a little closer to his side. "A miracle," he whispered.

"What on Earth did we ever do to deserve Alexis?" she asked in wonder.

"Oh," said Castle, looking delighted. "I ask myself the same thing every day. Several times, most days."

Kate couldn't resist the smile that stole across her face as she watched Castle's goofy grin. Given all the turmoil and chaos of the last few months, she knew the peace would never last. Hell, given the energy of the twin terrors, she doubted the peace would last more than a second after she or Castle said it was bedtime.

But at that moment, looking at the faces in the room, Kate was content.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** I wanted to have some chapter from minor character's point of views, so chapter is Lanie POV. I enjoyed channeling our favorite medical examiner so much, I wrote enough for three chapters, so if you guys like this chapter we'll be coming back to her POV for other chapters later in the story.

Thanks again for your beautiful reviews.

Takes place during Season 3's 'Punked'

* * *

><p>The call about the body came at 7:30am. Technically, the night shift were supposed to be on until 8am, but there was no point in them starting on a case when they'd just have to handover the moment they secured the scene. It was a sort of unspoken rule that the incoming shift were lenient about their starting time, so Dr Lanie Parish didn't complain about being called into work slightly early.<p>

Well, she didn't complain much.

The techs gave her the nod that the scene was secured and photographed, and Lanie moved forward, first taking in the general field, and then moving in closer, noting the position of the body. She squatted beside the body, making sure to examine him from each angle before moving a gloved hand in to begin her examination.

As usual, she blocked out her surrounds as she worked. Crime scenes were busy and frequently very noisy places. Still, as she was getting a closer look at the GSW in the chest the banter of her favourite detective/writer odd couple pierced the air.

"I'm just saying, I was the go-to-guy! We were a team. We shared everything."

"That's not going to change."

"Of course it is!"

"It's just a boyfriend, Castle."

"It's not just a boyfriend, Beckett. It's a wedge driven into the very heart of our close relationship. It's the end of an era."

Lanie looked up from the body, catching sight of Beckett and Castle, who had passed the police tape and were standing a few feet away from the body.

"I think you're jumping the gun here. It's only been a few months."

"It's been a few months?! My God, drive a dagger into my heart. This has been going on for months, and you didn't tell me."

"Relax, Castle, you're sounding like a Jewish mother. It started over the summer while you were away."

"You still should have told me."

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react like this."

"Well, how else could I react?" The writer paused, looking pained. "This changes everything."

The ME could do little more than stare at the pair, flabbergasted. Something didn't add up. She couldn't believe Kate could be dating anyone, especially for months. They'd spent the past months sorting out the loss of Kate's cousin, and making sure she and Castle had gotten custody of her cousin's two young sons. It had been clear Kate wasn't seeing anyone, and Lanie didn't think the detective would have found the time to meet someone, to say nothing of the emotional upheaval she had been going through.

Yet, Kate had clearly been saying she had a boyfriend of a few months.

For a moment, Lanie felt oddly betrayed. A little bit because the detective hadn't told Lanie, her supposed best friend about it. But mostly, she realized, because if Kate was dating anyone, it should be the writer by her side, looking at her with such devotion and loss it broke Lanie's heart.

"Castle," Lanie greeted with a nod. "Detective," she added a tad frostily, looking at Beckett.

Kate looked surprised.

"Lanie! Tell me you've got something to cheer me up," said Castle.

"I don't know," the ME replied. "Will a large caliber GSW to the chest do?"

Castle sighed heavily. "It'll have to, I suppose."

"If it makes you feel any better, the body was naked when it was found."

The writer perked up slightly.

"But," added Lanie. "I found clothing fibres in the bullet wound."

"So he was wearing clothes when he was shot."

"Bingo," said the ME.

"Why would someone shoot a guy, and then strip him?" pondered Castle. "Maybe there was evidence on the clothes," he thought aloud. "Or maybe he was wearing super expensive designer wear, and someone shot him for it."

Lanie decided that Beckett and Castle had been working together too long, because Beckett actually considered that for a moment.

"Nah," said Kate. "If you wanted the clothes, you'd strip him before you shot him. You wouldn't want blood stain on the Armani."

The writer nodded in agreement. "The distressed look is in, but I wouldn't quite go that far."

"Well, I'll leave that part up to you guys. I'll just let you know if I can find out anything from the fibres that were left behind," replied Lanie.

She knew it was wrong, but all the way through the preliminary investigation at the scene, Lanie couldn't help but be a little cold to the female detective. She understood that Kate and Castle weren't actually together, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the detective was doing wrong by the writer in dating someone else.

It was unfair of her. Kate was going through a lot, and if someone made her happy then Lanie shouldn't judge the other woman for it.

Still, every time she looked at them, she could see that over flowing potential. She could see how happy they could be. She could see more kids and a house and someday, maybe 50 years down the line, Kate still giving the writer attitude when they toothless and half demented and surrounded by a dozen grandkids.

More than anything in the world, Lanie just wanted her best friend to finally have the happiness she deserved.

* * *

><p>Lanie didn't <em>usually<em> get involved in the work that the detectives did down at the Precinct. She had more than enough work to do without wondering about the 'why' of the case. She was much more into the 'how'. How the perp did it, and how Lanie could prove it.

Of course, Javier didn't _usually_ call her from the emergency room asking how long he would have to wear a neck brace after a karate chop to his cervical spine.

"I want this guy to fry," Lanie said, the moment she saw her detective sitting up in bed with the cervical collar on.

"My thought's exactly," Javier replied.

"Oh, my baby," said Lanie, gently caressing his cheek. "Are you in a lot of pain? They better have you on the good stuff," she added, picking up the medical chart from the bottom of the detective's bed and leafing thought it.

"A little sugar'll make it all better," commented Javier with a smirk.

Lanie lent over and kissed the daylights out of him.

"Damn," said Javier with a smile. "It was almost worth the whole thing, just for that kiss."

He looked slightly dazed. Lanie wasn't sure if it was from the kiss or the oxycodone., but she was willing to take full credit. Javier hooked an arm around her, pulling her onto the bed beside him, scooting over to make room.

"Ryan just went to go call Beckett," he informed her.

"You scared the shit out of me, Javier. Don't do it again."

"It's the job. You know I can't promise that."

"I know. But just fool me for a minute and tell me everything's going to be ok."

"Hey," he said, turning slightly to make eye contact. "Everything is going to be ok. Doctor's just making me wear this thing as a precaution. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if Ryan's bribing her to do it, just so as he can make fun of me. Don't you worry your beautiful little head about it, Chica."

Lanie settled into his side for a moment. "Thanks," she said, feeling both comforted at his words, and annoyed for being comforted. "So, I take it the guy you took down is the killer?"

"Well, his fingerprints are all over the dead guy's wallet. And we found an unregistered .45 in his apartment, which you're going to tell us matches the .45 in our vic's chest. Slam dunk." He mimed shooting a basketball.

"It's not a .45."

"What?"

"The bullet in our vic. It's not a .45. Or a .38. Or a .44 or .357 or a .22 or 9mm or any other kind of bullet I've seen before."

"So what the hell is it? Some new kind of bullet?"

"Not new, old. I'm still running tests, but I think the bullet that killed our vic is over 200 years old."

"Well, shit," said the detective with a frown. "You mean I got beat on for nothing?"

Lanie bit her lip. "Sorry, honey."

Javier waved it off. Then he chuckled.

Lanie raised an eyebrow, wondering what about this situation he found funny.

"Just picturing what Castle's going to say about a 200 year old bullet," said Javier.

They considered it for a moment.

"Time travel," they both said in unison. They were silent for a moment, both picturing Castle's excitement, and Beckett's frustration at having to deal with Castle's excitement.

"Speaking of our token mystery writer, what do you think about this whole 'boyfriend' thing?" she asked.

"Boyfriend? Wait, Castle has been talking to you about that too?" The detective let out a groan. "He's been going on about it all day. I should probably be grateful I get to park it here instead of heading straight back to the 12th to listen to them fight about it some more."

"You did not almost break your neck – and almost give me a heart attack – just to avoid Castle's little girl whining."

"Oh were your worried about me?" said the detective with a smirk. "Nice to know you care, Dr Parish."

"Of course I care. Obviously not as much as I would if it was Ryan in that neck brace, but still…"

Javier elbowed her in the side. "Hey!" he protested.

Lanie smiled, momentarily distracted. "Still, I can understand why he's pissed."

Javier looked surprised. "Really? I think he's blowing the whole thing out of proportion."

"What? This has been going on for months, behind his back, and you don't think he's got a reason to be upset?"

"Well it's not like he owns her, right? Girl's gotta right to date if she wants. She's old enough."

"It just feels wrong. After everything that's been going on, and she was getting freaky with some guy behind his back the whole time?"

"I doubt there's been much 'getting freaky' going on. I think the whole thing is more about making lovey-dovey eyes over coffee at this stage."

"She having _coffee _with him? That's supposed to be her and Castle's thing."

"Ok, now I think you're the one who's overreacting."

"Coffee is totally below the belt. I think I'm gonna have to have a talk with my girl."

"Er, right. Well, good luck with that," said Javier.

* * *

><p>Apparently, their vic was an investment banker (and not a very good one, since he'd recently got a bunch of investors on a deal that had tanked and lost them all millions), with an interest in antique guns. Beckett and the boys had chased down a person of interest who had an antique gun collection, and had sent them around to ballistics for checking.<p>

Of course, that was like Christmas for the ballistics guys, who got to fire off a bunch of weapons worth millions, some hundreds of years old. Lanie was pretty sure they didn't even care that none had been the murder weapon.

Lanie was returning the bullets to ballistics, agreeing with their assessment that none matched the bullet that killed the victim, when she ran into Castle.

"What brings you down here, Writer Boy?"

"Just grabbing the report for Beckett."

"Really?" asked the ME, sceptically. "You don't usually come down in person for the report."

"Alright, they were some really cool guns! I wanted to see if the boys in the range would let me fire one."

"Did they?"

"No," pouted the writer. "But Haywood agreed with my theory about this being a time traveling killer."

"Really?" asked the ME, sceptically.

"Well ok, he didn't agree. But he did say that it 'wasn't the craziest thing I've come up with'. That's something."

"Do you really believe in time travel?"

"I don't know. Don't tell Beckett that though." He paused, looking pensive for a moment. "It's a nice thought, isn't it? That if things go completely wrong, we could go back and change it."

"What would you change?"

Castle seemed to contemplate the question for a while. Lanie wondered if he was going to answer. "I don't know," Castle finally replied. "I mean, if I could go back and stop Johanna Beckett from dying, well, yeah, I'd do that in a heartbeat. But then Beckett wouldn't be a cop, and all those victims she's helped would have never had justice. Or I could go back and stop my mother's vile ex-husband from breaking her heart and stealing her money. But then she wouldn't have moved in with me, and we wouldn't be so close. So maybe it's not that easy."

Lanie nodded, surprised at the writer's uncharacteristic sincerity.

"Or maybe I could just go back with the super jackpot lotto numbers and live out my days having beautiful women feeding me grapes in the Caribbean," the writer finished.

Lanie laughed. "That's better. For a minute I thought you were actually getting serious on me."

"Serious? Me?" Castle affected a look of horror. "Never!"

Lanie smiled, changing tack slightly. "Listen, I heard you and Beckett talking at the crime scene this morning. I just wanted to let you know that I'm with you, one hundred per cent. She's totally out of line on this one."

"Thanks, Lanie," said the writer. "But you know, maybe Beckett's right. Maybe I'm blowing the whole thing out of proportion."

"This has been going on for months, and she didn't tell you. And it shouldn't be going on at all in the first place," said Lanie.

"No, Beckett's right. I'm just being overprotective. She has a right to date whoever she wants. Unless she wants some 500 pound trucker named Bubba. Or one of those creepy prison romances, where women write to men on death row, and become convinced of their innocence and then marry them in a conjugal visiting trailer." He shuddered in horror.

"Well, maybe there's worse in the world.," Lanie conceded. "But there's better too," she added, with a significant look at the writer.

"I suppose I'm just having trouble letting go. It's just that she's been the most important person in my whole world for so long. It's hard to have to give that up. I keep picturing them together. You know, his creepy arm around her shoulders at the movies, his smarmy eyes looking at her like she's a piece of meat. Well, not that I even know what he looks like."

"You haven't met him yet?"

"No. But it's going to have to happen. I mean, I'm sure she's going to bring him back the loft sometime."

Lanie winced, feeling back for the writer.

"Hang in there, Castle. There no way this will last. It's just a rebound from all the upheaval and changes lately. No way is it going to last. You just stick around and be her friend, same as you've always done. And when this is over, you'll still be there, and she'll realise just how much she loves you." The ME slung an arm around the writer, giving him a lopsided one armed hug of support.

Castle's face lightened considerably. "You know, you're right. Thanks, Lanie."

Lanie watched him leave. That was a brave man, she thought. If only Beckett would wake up and see how lucky she was.

* * *

><p>The following morning Lanie was sorting through the contents of a vic's stomach. The vic had been a homeless guy, with no medical records for Lanie to check, but given his blood alcohol level, not to mention the contents of his stomach, she was leaning heavily toward alcohol poisoning as a cause of death.<p>

Stomach contents were always a secret fascination to the ME. Just a few hours ago, someone could be going about their normal business, eating their favourite food, and then – bang! – they were dead.

It always made the whole diet thing less appealing to Lanie. What was the point of denying yourself, if this could be your last meal? She thought of a quote she'd read years ago; "think of all those women on the Titanic, who waved away desert".

It was in the middle of such philosophical thought that Detective Beckett strode in, a sealed evidence bag in her hand.

"Morning," greeted Lanie, looking up from her tub of mixed food and digestive juices.

"Hey," returned the detective absently. "Do I want to know?" she asked, indicating the tub with her head.

"Nah," said Lanie. "Not your case."

Kate wrinkled her nose slightly. "Good. Well, I was just coming by with evidence in the Goldstein case. Do you have time to take a look?"

Lanie stood, snapping off her gloves. "What have you got for me?"

"We think these are the clothes the vic was wearing at the time of death," Kate replied, handing over the evidence bag.

Lanie put on fresh gloves, and took the package from Kate. One side of the evidence bag was clear plastic and she could see what appeared to be clothes from the 1800s. "Well, that would fit with the rest of the case, I guess. I'll need to finish up with the new guy," she gestured to the pile of stomach contents again, "but then I'll see if these clothes can tell us anything about the hours leading up to Goldstein's death."

"Thanks, Lanie," said the detective, as she got out the transfer of evidence form, and noted the date and time. She signed her declaration to say she had handed over the evidence to the medical examiners' office.

Lanie took the paperwork from her, and signed to acknowledge her receipt of the evidence. "No Writer Boy today?" she asked casually.

"Dropping off the kids," said Kate. "He'll meet me at the station. In fact, I should run."

Before the detective could leave, Lanie grabbed her arm. "One second," the ME requested.

Beckett looked at Lanie's gloved hand on her arm in horror.

"Clean gloves," Lanie promised.

Kate didn't look mollified, so Lanie made a big show and dropping her hand from the other woman's arm, raising an eyebrow as if to say 'happy?'

"We need to talk about this 'boyfriend' thing."

The detective groaned. "Not you, too. Has Castle put you up to this? Is he paying you to bug me about it? Cause I really don't have time for this."

"Well, make time. How long has this been going on for?"

"I don't know, it started in the summer, while Castle was away. Few months I guess."

"I can't believe you can be so – so – " Lanie struggled, trying to find the right word, "unrepentant about this."

"Why should I feel 'repentant' about it?"

"In all these months, you never thought this was something you should tell us – tell _him_ about?"

"Frankly, I don't see how it's anyone's business."

"Not our business? Not our business?!" Lanie repeated, almost swelling with rage. "Just who has been watching your children while these little dates have been going on?"

"I don't know, Castle mostly. Martha once, I think."

"And you think that's ok?"

"Don't start on Martha, just because you don't know her well – " Kate started, hotly.

"It's not about Martha," Lanie broke in.

"Castle?! You have a problem with Castle watching the kids? He's basically their father."

"Oh, he's probably the best father I've ever seen. Which is why I have a problem with you flouncing around on some ridiculous - and – and – irresponsible dates, with some ridiculous - and – and – irresponsible guy when you've got this amazing man at home who loves you. Who's waiting for _you._ Who is perfect_ for you._"

With a sudden flash, Lanie felt the anger leave her body. "Look, I know this is overwhelming, and I get it if you're not ready for it now. But you can't just parade other men around in front of Castle. He's not going to wait around forever."

For a moment, there was utter silence, as the detective stared at her in mute shock.

"This is all about my boyfriend?" Kate asked.

"Yes! And I don't see how you can be so blasé about it!"

Suddenly, she burst out laughing. "You think…?" she broke off, dissolving into laughter again. "Sorry. Right. You think that in the last few months, whilst recovering from losing all my possessions from a bombing, that I was gallivanting around town with guy, and that then my cousin died and I continued to hide this boyfriend from you all. A boyfriend who completely didn't mind that I was living with – and applying for joint custody of two children with – my male best friend." She laughed again. "Your fictional boyfriend seems pretty forgiving."

"But I heard you. At the crime scene! You were telling Castle that nothing had to change just because you'd have a boyfriend for a few months."

"Alexis," said Kate with a smile. "Alexis has had a boyfriend for few months, whom Castle just found out about yesterday morning."

"So when you said this wouldn't change anything about your relationship…"

"I was talking about Castle and Alexis. I was trying to reassure him that Alexis having a boyfriend was not going to change the close father-daughter relationship they share."

"And when Castle has been talking about everything changing and not sharing everything like in the past, he was talking about Alexis?" The detective nodded. Lanie buried her face in her hands. "How pissed at me are you right now?" she asked.

"I'll tell you what. You stop talking about how Castle is perfect for me, and I'll think about forgiving you."

In the end, Lanie just decided to shut up, and call this one a draw.

* * *

><p>Lanie had no idea how they had done it, but Castle and Beckett had apparently found a 'Steampunk Society', that lived as though it was 1892. Sometimes people in this city had more money than sense.<p>

Through that lead, they'd managed to find a pair of antique dueling pistols. Ballistics got to have fun again firing off some hundred and fifty year old guns.

And this time, the bullet they brought her was a match.

Even though it was after hours, Lanie figured Kate would want to know, so they could officially charge the suspect. Still writing her report on the positive results, Lanie reached for her phone, lodging it between her cheek and shoulder as she dialed Kate's cell from memory.

She hoped Kate wasn't still pissed about earlier.

"Kate Beckett's phone."

Most of her attention on the paperwork before her, Lanie was momentarily surprised. "Castle?" she asked.

"You were expecting another man to be answering Beckett's cell at 8pm on a Wednesday? Should I be worried?"

Lanie supposed she probably deserved that. Still, smart-assed writer. Hmmpf. "Got the ballistics report on those duelling pistols for Beckett."

"You're working late." Lanie forgave his earlier smart-arsed comment due to the concern she could hear in his voice.

"That's cause I'm busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. Now, is Kate free?"

Castle chuckled. "She's upstairs with the boys, checking the cupboard for monsters. Although both of the boys adamantly don't believe in monsters, because that's a baby thing, they still can't get to sleep until she does it. We have a theory that they're regressing into some more infantile behaviours in order to cope with the stress of everything."

"That makes sense," Lanie said. "It's a common reaction in kids. They're subconsciously looking to get back to the time where they were more strongly protected. In this case I guess they're trying to get back to a time when their mom was still around."

"Yeah, there seems to be a lot of attempted time travel lately. Anyway, the boys insist that Beckett has to be the one to tuck them and check the room is secure. Apparently, because she's a real cop the boys think she does it better than me."

Lanie laughed.

"She should be down in a minute though. Anything I can help you with in the meantime?" Castle continued. Lanie could hear a shuffling noise in the background, then the clinking of plates being staked together.

She knew, intellectually, that Kate and Castle lived together, raised three kids together. But moments like this, the day-to-day stuff, the very domestic picture of Castle answering Kate's cell, Kate putting the kids to bed while downstairs Castle cleared the dinner table, it still surprised her. Lanie took a seat on the edge of her desk, letting her weary muscles rest for a moment. Her tone softened. "How is she, really?"

"It's tough," he says. "But she's tougher."

There it was. The unwavering support and belief she knew she could count on from the writer. The writer's tone was overflowing with affection for the detective that he didn't even try to hide anymore. But then he never really had. "Thanks for looking out for our girl, Castle."

She thought he was about to reply, but his tone changed suddenly and he said, "Yes Dr Parish, she's just coming downstairs now."

Silence for a moment and then Kate's voice. "What have you got for us, Lanie?"

"Girl, if you are seriously living with that man, raising those kids together and not hitting that, I'ma smack you."

Castle's booming laughter almost drowned out Beckett's hiss. "Lanie! You're on speaker phone. He can hear you."

She was completely unrepentant. "Don't even get me started on Writer Boy. You been living in his house for six months and he hasn't even made a move? I'ma get Javi to take away his man-card."

"If we could just get back to the murder investigation going on here," said Beckett, her over professionalism trying to cover up the embarrassment in her tone.

"Honestly, hun, you and me are catching up this weekend, and having a talk."

"How about we start with the COD?" Kate asked, exasperation in her tone.

"Spontaneous combustion," the ME answered.

"Cool! How?" asked Castle.

"Unresolved sexual tension. Turns out if you ignore these things for too long they build up and explode. Seems to be a bit of it going around."

Castle's laughter exploded again and then was abruptly cut off mid-chuckle.

Kate Beckett had hung up on her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2:<strong> So, what did you think of Lanie's POV? Happy to hear more from our ME?


	15. Chapter 15

The cursor blinked back at him.

Mocking him.

_This shouldn't be so hard_, he thought. Then he chuckled. _That's what she said,_ he thought, giving himself a mental high five.

Still, there was no earthly reason why he should be having this much trouble with the climax.

_Oh God,_ he thought. _I've got to get my mind out of the gutter. Just because I haven't got any in a while…_

_I should not be having such difficultly with composing the narrative peak of this novel. There, there was nothing dirty in that,_ he thought with triumph.

Over the summer, the words had poured out of him, almost faster than he could put fingers to keyboard.

But now, the scene was set for the intricate reveal in the third act of his latest _Nikki Heat_ novel and he was stuck.

He had tried as much as possible to create the perfect writing environment. A large cup of Moroccan blend sat by his elbow. His phone was on silent. He had the whole loft to himself.

And still the dark blinking of the cursor on the barren white page stared back.

He let his mind wander for a moment. Back to the summer. In a way it seemed only days ago, and yet so much had changed in the intervening months.

He remembered the book tour, and the loneliness, and missing Beckett more than he would admit to himself. Imaging her back at his loft, living in his house, curled up under his throw rug, on his couch.

He'd spent a lot of time over the summer thinking about her. When he wasn't thinking about Nikki.

Except, now that he thought about it, he'd never really thought about Nikki. Rick doubted anyone had missed the fact that his writing in the Heat series was rather meta. So he'd surrendered to his imagination. It was no longer Nikki, but Beckett he'd pictured as his words flew across the page.

With new verve, Rick turned back to the page before him.

He'd been going about this all wrong. He didn't need to carefully build tension and plot out the confrontation between his antagonist and hero.

He just needed to ask himself that most vital of literary questions:

_What would Beckett do? _

Hours later, he was so deep in concentration that he let out a little girly yelp when his phone suddenly vibrated it's way across his desk.

Focus broken, he picked up the cell and glanced at the caller ID, smiling automatically. He swiped to answer. "Ah, my lovely muse," he greeted.

"Got a body. You want in?"

"Oh, er…"

"Nikki speaking to you again?"

"Faster than the disclaimer at the end of a pharmaceutical ad. But I can write later, when the boys are in bed, if you want…"

She chuckled. "I was solving murders long before you came on the scene, Castle. I think I can handle one little GSW without you holding my hand."

"Great! Cause the perp has got Nikki cornered, and she just realised she's out of slugs."

"Slugs, Castle?"

"Too clichéd?"

"Unless Nikki's been transported back to prohibition era, then yeah."

Rick pictured a noir film set. Rook (who looked remarkably like himself) sitting at a desk with his sleeves rolled up and a fedora sitting jauntily upon his head. A broad – no wait – a dame, walking in (looking remarkably like Beckett in a flapper dress, slowing off her long gorgeous legs).

_Of all the gin joints…_

"Castle! You still there?"

"Hmm?" he murmured, distracted.

"I asked if you want me to pick up the boys from school so you can keep writing. Someone's got to save Nikki," she said in that tight voice she always used to talk about her literary counterpart.

"Nah, she'll be out of it by then. Crash tackle onto the perp from an overhead beam, jolt to the ulnar nerve to loosen his grip, wrench the gun away from him and it's all over. She'll have him down the station in an hour, and I can go pick the boys up."

"Thanks, Castle. I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have to make anything up to me."

"Still," she said, and he could tell he didn't believe what he'd said. "Thanks."

He thought about arguing with her, but he glanced at the clock out of the corner of his eye, and was diverted for a moment in wondering where the time had gone. He'd gotten so wrapped up in the story he'd even missed lunch. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get much more done before the school run.

Still, even after his thumb hit 'end' on the phone call, he thought about what Beckett had said. It always bothered him when she was grateful that he'd done something for the boys. As far as he was concerned, they were his boys. And no one should have to thank him for looking after his own children.

If he was honest with himself, it was more than that.

He didn't want Beckett to feel indebted to him. He didn't want her gratitude.

Rick wanted a lot of things from Beckett, but obligation wasn't one of them.

* * *

><p>Castle lent against the low wall outside the school, waiting for the kids to appear. The ending to Nikki's latest caper was still bugging him. There was always a fine line in mystery writing between a surprise ending, and an ending with came completely out of left field.<p>

The idea was that, upon the protagonist revealing the murderer, the reader would recall clues from throughout the story arch, confirming narrative integrity. The big mystery should not be too obvious, of course. But the reader would also feel cheated if the mystery was too obfuscated. It felt like the writer was being a smart ass, and gave the reader cognitive dissonance.

He was so deep in thought about whether he needed to re-write the interrogation scene, that it took a while for him to notice the group of people gathered further down the fence were staring at him. The moment he looked at them, they suddenly turned away, whispering together. Looking closer, Rick noticed that they group was actually only three people, all women – two blondes and a brunette.

Ricked smiled at them, almost reflexively. They were good looking women after all.

The three women turned away for a moment, giggling. Rick wondered if perhaps they were fans.

One of the blondes tossed her hair, and sent him a sultry pout. Well, Rick thought it was supposed to be a sultry pout, but the woman had obviously had some recent botox, which made her smile rather lopsided. The effect was somewhere between endearing and odd.

He nodded at them, then turned back to the school building. He checked his watch, realising there was still about a minute until students started flooding from the school gates.

"Hi ya," came a high pitch voice from his left.

Rick turned in surprise. Botox Blonde was suddenly right at his elbow.

"Er, hi."

"I'm Angel, Aspen's mother."

"Oh," said Rick. Did he know an Aspen? Wasn't that a place?

"Brooklyn," Angel continued, pointing. Rick was about to correct her, since Brooklyn was clearly in the other direction, when he realised that she was introducing the brunette woman, not making a non sequitur or giving her place of residence. Hah! As if Botox Blonde lived anywhere but the Upper East Side. "Her son George-Thaddeus the Third is in Aspen's class, and her daughter Shequntila is in fifth grade this year. And this is Naveah-Valentina," she said, gesturing to the other blonde. "He daughter Persephone is in class with my Aspen and George-Thaddeus the Third. Her daughter Tarquin is in second grade, and Hymen hasn't started school yet." Botox blonde gestured to a toothy toddler in a stroller.

Rick wondered if they always called him George-Thaddeus the Third. It seemed like rather a mouthful. He wondered if they could just call him GTT for short.

"Lovely to meet you ladies," Rick ventured, with smiles all around.

This brought out another chorus of giggles.

"I'm Rick. My daughter Alexis is a junior this year. And our twins, Elijah and Ezekiel are second-graders." _Our twins,_ he thought, happily. _Mine and Beckett's._ It was a nice thought.

"Our?" asked Botox Blonde. "Where's your wife then?" She glanced at his empty ring finger, and a confused expression crossed her face. Well, Rick thought she was trying to furrow her brows in confusion. The botox lent her every expression a rather startled appearance, making her very difficult to read.

"My partner, Kate," he explained. "We've not married," he added, waving his empty ring finger as proof. "She's at work. She's a homicide detective." He may have puffed out his chest in pride at this statement, just a little. The brunette, No-Vacancy, or whatever her name was, recoiled. Whether at Beckett's job, or just her employment status, Rick wasn't sure.

Botox Blonde seemed to take this as a challenge. She sent him another simpering pout. "There's so much divorce these days," she commented. "I think it's very sensible to wait until you're sure. I'm certain when the right woman comes along you'll know it." She rested her hand gently on his arm.

Rick was filled with righteous indignation at the implication that this woman was in any way superior to Katherine Beckett. He brushed his hand along his arm, dislodging her carefully manicured talons.

"Oh, we've been partners for years. And, do you know, every day I am even more blown away by how amazing and caring and beautiful she is. I don't think anyone else in the world could compare."

"Well," said Botox Blonde. She gaped at him for a moment. Then, with an offended "humph" she turned and walked off. Bronx sent him a vicious look and followed.

"Get the stroller," No-Vacancy snapped at a bored looking college-aged kid. _Ah,_ _must be the nanny,_ Rick thought. The young woman came over and grabbed the stroller, sharing an eye-roll with Rick as she did so.

Suddenly the sidewalk was filled with a sea of uniforms, as school ended for the day. Within minutes, Rick had a twin on each side, Eli loudly reciting his two times tables, while Zeke proudly displayed the bruise he had acquired playing dodgeball at recess.

A minute later, Rick's entire encounter with the Nip/Tuck brigade was forgotten.

* * *

><p>The boys had finished their homework. Rick rewarded them with an hour of x-box time, which also gave him an hour of Nikki writing time. He was sitting at his desk when Alexis walked in, deep in thought.<p>

"Hey Dad, can I ask you a question?"

"Is it about algebra?" he asked. She'd been bent over her Math textbook at the dinner table last time Rick looked.

"No."

"Well then I actually might have a chance at answering it. Shoot."

"How do you know when you're in love?"

"Oh God, I think I should have taken my chances with algebra."

Alexis pouted. "Seriously, Dad. You've been married twice. How did you know you loved Mom or Gina? Like, how did you know for sure?"

"You just do."

"But how?"

"No one can tell you you're in love. You just know it, through and through. Balls to bones."

"Isn't that from _The Matrix_?"

"Err-"

"Dad!" she flopped down on the couch dramatically. "This is serious."

"I know, hun. But I really don't think I can answer."

"I know it's an emotion, a feeling, and you can't exactly define, like technically, how you know when you're feeling it, but since I've never felt it before how do I know what I'm feeling is even it at all?"

"Well, I don't -" Rick floundered.

"Except of course for the fact that I'm feeling all these things I've never felt before like in my stomach, in my throat, and even kind of in my ears … I mean, which just has to mean that it's love, right? Considering I only feel them when I'm with Ashley or thinking about him … I mean, it's gotta be love, right?"

"I -"

"And I can't stop thinking about him, Daddy. I don't even want to, because he's the greatest, sweetest, most adorable guy and his nose crinkles when he laughs and … I'm just so happy."

"Right."

"But what do you think?"

"I think maybe _The Matrix_ had it right after all. I don't think I can tell you if you're in love or not, honey. I think that's something only you know."

* * *

><p>The following day, Castle loitered by the school gate once more, scrolling through his Facebook feed as he waited.<p>

"The wolves are leaving you alone today, huh?"

He looked up from his phone, looking around for who had spoken to him. A woman stood across from him, smiling. She indicated a group standing on the other side of the school gate, shooting him furious looks, then looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

Rick recognised No-Vacancy, Bronx and Botox Blonde.

"Does that make me a sheep?" he asked the stranger.

She laughed. "You're a DILF with no ring. You're unequivocally prey as far as they're concerned."

"A DILF?" he asked.

"Dad I'd Like to…" she locked eyes with him, "Friend," she finished in a deadpan voice, which left no doubt as to what other 'f' word usually went in that sentence, and just what kind of 'friend' the other moms had been hoping to make.

Rick laughed. "I talk it you've seen this before?"

"God, yes. They think every male on the block is their property. If they're not a DILF, they're a manny," she indicated a 20 something guy in jeans waiting down the block, flirting with a group of belched blonde mothers in tight capris, dripping in gold. "Mannys are just temporary distraction though, more common amongst the married set, who just want a bit of fun. Single mothers, like Angel Archer need someone with a larger…." She paused, raising an eye-brow "…pocketbook, to satisfy their needs and the style to which their ex-husbands made them accustomed."

Rick looked over at the woman. She was about low to medium height – much shorter than Beckett – and appeared to be of Asian descent, with pale, almost porcelain skin, but straight black hair and dark eyes. She was dressed casually, in blue jeans and wedge heels that showed off her great legs, with a flowing print top. "And how do you fit in?" he asked.

"Oh, I committed the cardinal sin. I actually work for a living."

Rick affected a look of horror. "Horrible. What do you do?"

"I'm a writer. Journalist actually."

"Really? Me too. Well, the writer part. But I'm a novelist."

"I've always enjoyed something a bit more quick and dirty myself. Never could commit to the long form."

"Really? I've always felt there's something to be said for the long build-up. I could go for days and days. Writing of course."

"Of course."

"Rick Castle," he said, holding out his hand.

She laughed.

"What?" Rick asked, vaguely offended.

"I'm amused by the notion that you think everyone here doesn't know exactly who you are. You think Ms 'Boob-Job' Archer made a move before she knew your exact net worth?"

Castle cast a fleeting look over to the little Botox Brigade. "Really?" he asked.

She smiled at his naivety. "Samantha Ko," she said, reaching out to shake his hand. "Call me Sam."

Castle was about to ask her more about her writing, but there was a sudden burst of noise from his right as children started pouring out of the school building. He swept his eyes, looking for the boys. By the time he looked back for Sam, she was talking to a boy – likely her son, judging from his black hair and dark eyes, although he looked like he was going to be much taller than his mother.

Sam looked up and sent him a smile that was part friendly, part challenging, and then she gathered her son, and left.

Rick felt oddly disappointed.

* * *

><p>"Right, I'll pour the wine, you see if you can find something worth watching on there," said Rick, gesturing to the television.<p>

It was nearly nine, and the boys were tucked up in bed. Alexis had headed up to her room with a novel she was currently reading a few minutes ago. They'd just finished straightening up the lounge and cleaning up the mess from dinner, and Rick was looking forward to the chance to relax.

Kate snorted. "Yeah, right. Something good on television? It's all just those ridiculous procedural shows now, solving murders with jumped up science montages and explosive sexual tension."

Kate looked up as she spoke, locking eyes with Rick across the room. Someone had obviously been messing with the thermostat, because Castle swore the temperature suddenly jumped ten degrees.

"Totally unrealistic," they murmured in unison.

Castle turned back to the kitchen, glad for the distraction of fetching wine glass. When he headed back over the lounge a few minutes later, the television was off, and soft music played from the stereo.

"This ok?" Beckett asked.

"Perfect," he replied with a smile, handing the detective her glass.

She smiled in thanks.

Despite the fact that there were two armchairs free, Rick took a seat next to Beckett on the couch.

He sunk back into the cushions. "This is nice," he said, not really sure if he meant the wine, or the music, or their proximity.

Beckett hummed her agreement.

"What did you get up to today?" she asked.

He thought about the four hours he'd spent re-writing and then re-re-writing the confrontation scene in the Nikki book he was working on, before deleting the entire chapter, feeling like a frustrated failure. He thought about Sam Ko, flirting with at the school gate, knowing who he was, making him feel powerful and wanted.

"We went to the park on the way home," he said instead.

"Yeah, the boys told me at dinner," she said, giving him a funny look.

"Right," he replied, remembering how distracted he'd been at dinner, how guilty he felt for talking to Sam, and then how annoyed he was that he felt guilty, because it wasn't like there was anything going on between him and Beckett, and he could talk to hot school moms if he wanted to. And then he'd just felt guilty he felt that he was annoyed at Beckett, because he wanted there to be something going on, and he knew he shouldn't be rushing her, and God hadn't she gone through enough lately without him pressuring her with his guilty, annoyed feelings.

They were silent as the music played around them. Gradually he felt the combination of the alcohol and the music flow into his tense muscles, making his mind somehow both clearer and more hazy. Softer. The wine was over half gone before he spoke again.

"How do you know when you're in love?" he asked suddenly.

"All the songs make sense," Beckett replied, as though the question was easy.

Castle nodded, thinking it over. He remembered Kira and Gina and Meredith. He thought about every nonsensical thing that made perfect sense when you loved someone.

"Good answer."

"What made you ask?"

"Alexis. She asked me when we got home from school yesterday how you know when you're in love with someone. I couldn't answer her then."

"Do you think you can now?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking about it ever since. I think it's about how every other aspect of your life seems so much less important. Everything is brighter when you're in love. Who cares if you get every red light, because _she_ exists. Who cares if you haven't got the dream job? You've got someone amazing to go home to. The world shrinks and expands all at the same time. I'm not explaining it very well."

"No I get it. I think I like your version of love too."

"Alexis has one as well. She talked about feeling something in her ears she'd never felt before, but only when she thinks about Ashley. And all I could think was 'I'm not ready for you to be in love'."

Beckett was silent for a while. "You should spend some time with them, Castle. He's a really sweet guy."

"I don't want him to be a sweet guy," Castle muttered, darkly.

"You'd rather he was mean?"

"Well, no, but -"

"Wicked? Depraved? Heinous?"

"God I love it when you talk all literary," Castle broke in, momentarily breaking her train of thought. She blushed.

"I don't want him to be a guy," Castle said.

"You wish she was gay? Loving your child regardless of their sexuality includes loving them even if they turn out to be straight, you know." Beckett smiled. She was having way too much fun with this, Castle thought. "But I can see what you mean. It would certainly decrease the risk of teenage pregnancy."

Castle felt his heart stop. "Teenage pregnancy?!" he whimpered.

Beckett actually looked guilty at the pain she had caused him. "Sorry, I think that took teasing you a little too far. You don't have to worry about being a grandfather any time soon."

"I just want her to go back to playing with Barbies and asking me to braid her hair! I don't want her to be dating teenage boys who are only going to break her heart. I was a teenage boy, you know. I know how they think. Even the sweet ones."

"Well, that's hardly fair. I doubt you were a sweet one, so I don't think you can comment on what they were thinking."

"I was! I was sweet and feeling, and an utter nerd. Long before nerds were cool."

Beckett smiled, and Rick wondered if she was picturing his geeky fifteen year old self. He wondered if his old yearbooks were around. He really had to hide them. There was no way she would ever go out with him if she saw those pictures.

"I wasn't," said Beckett with a smile. "I was always after the Bad Boy, chasing after him on the back of someone's motorbike."

"Did you have a leather jacket?"

"Oh yeah. And tight pants and biker boots."

Rick tried to discreetly wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth.

"She's got to grow up eventually," said Beckett, breaking his train of thought.

"What if I'm not ready for it?"

"I don't think any dad is ever ready for his little girl to grow up."

Rick sighed and stared unseeingly ahead. Beckett moved closer to him, reaching down to place a hand on his knee.

"This is Alexis, remember. The most beautiful, responsible, wonderful teenager I've ever met. This is the girl who tutors other students who are struggling in class for free, who gives up her Friday nights to watch her 'little brothers' when we're busy, whose loyalty and compassion are endless. We trust Alexis, remember?"

"I know. You're right. I'm not being rational."

"You're a dad, talking about his teenage daughter's love life. I don't think rational plays a big part."

Rick looked over at the woman at his side. At moments like this, he was baffled at how he had managed to get here. How he had ever got so lucky.

Why was he wasting his time thinking about Sam, when he could have this?

Well, almost have this. It wasn't really his.

Maybe that was the problem.

He could have Sam.

He might never have Beckett. Not really.

Would this be enough?

Almost of its own violation, his arm stretched out over Beckett's shoulders and drew her into his side. Beckett of a year ago would have protested, but this Beckett just melted into him, as though she belonged.

And somehow, he knew that even the having of Sam, could not be as good as the not-having of Beckett.

Sitting on the couch, Rick tried to work out how he was feeling. It wasn't a loud emotion, It wasn't a powerful wave of dizzying happiness, or a rollercoaster of disappointment. It was just pure sensation, deep in his stomach.

For a moment, he couldn't put a finger on it. Then it was suddenly clear.

Serenity.

Rick was satisfied.

"I love hearing your talk about Alexis like that. I love her so much more than I ever thought was possible. Knowing you feel the same way about her…" he trailed off, words failing him.

"I know," said Kate. "I love my dad, and my mom, and I love Maddy and Lanie and Maggie. And I've loved men before, or at least thought I did. But the way I feel about Alexis and Eli and Zeke? I didn't imagine it could exist. It's like, I would die for my dad, or for you. But I would kill for those kids. In cold blood. In a heartbeat."

"Ah, welcome to parenthood. We're all psychopaths here."

Kate's pealing laugh rang out in the quiet room.

And Rick was satisfied.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry about the wait for this chapter. I was pretty devastated after one of the reviews for the previous chapter. But I know I need to accept feedback – whether positive or negative – if I am going to improve. And I do make a lot of changes based on your opinions. So thank you to each and every one of you who reviews, even the anonymous reviewer who almost made me cry.

This chapter is from Cap Montgomery's POV, and takes place during 3XK. I have borrowed some dialogue from that episode, which obviously I don't own.

* * *

><p><em>Many years ago, in the Ancient, when the world began, was the war of the Gods. And there lived Atlas, who was known even amongst the great Titans for the great depth of his endurance. The Titans, oppressed by the Olympians, raged up against them. Atlas himself led the battle against Zeus for their freedom.<em>

_But after battling for ten long years, Zeus was victorious. _

_As punishment, Atlas was made the carry the weight of all the Heaven and the Earth upon his shoulders, and never rest. _

Roy Montgomery knew how to bear a heavy burden. There were mountains upon his back.

Some days, Roy wondered why he even chose this job.

Even as a rookie, the guys at the precinct teased him. They said he is the job, and he'll never quit.

On the days when he was late to his wife's birthday dinner, or missed his eldest daughter's school play, he wanted to quit. Wanted to work in a bank somewhere, and put in his nine to five, and not have to wonder when he left the house in the morning if he'd still be in one piece that night.

He knew his job was a lot safer since his promotion to Captain, but being an officer in Manhattan was never safe, no matter what level.

Deep down he knew why he chose this job, and why he could never do anything else. He knew it every time he saw a victim's face, and remembered that that was someone's mother, or someone's brother, or someone's little girl.

So he kissed his wife every morning and went to work. And if some days clipping on that badge felt like adding a 50 pound weight, well that was ok.

Roy Montgomery was a strong man.

He could take it.

* * *

><p>The day that Roy's nightmare came back started out like any other. He left the house before the girls were even up, planning to get some paperwork done. When the first vic rolled in, he didn't even realise.<p>

Of course, his detectives were the best in the country for a reason. When Beckett came and told him that she believed the triple killer was back, he listened up.

God, he wanted her to be wrong.

But it was Beckett. Of course she wasn't.

Roy knew that if you work enough cases, you end up with a lot unsolved. It didn't make someone a bad cop. Over the years every detective ends up with cold cases. No matter how hard you work, how many leads you chase down, how many angles you work, some cases can't be solved. Roy knew that.

But be in the job for long enough, and you end up with A Case.

One case that burrows in under your skin and hooks itself deep inside.

It can be for almost any reason. Maybe you're the same age as the vic, or they go to your gym. Maybe the mode of the killing – drowning, fire, electrocution – hits on a particular fear you have. Maybe it's because you think you know the dirty sleezeball who did it, but you just can't get the evidence you need.

Whatever it is, it germinates inside your mind, flowering in the night as you lie awake, burrowing deeper, rooting itself, until you know every detail like you know your children's names.

Rachel Gold. Sara Townsend. Emma Keener.

Lauren Brackett. Sheri Ort. Melanie Sherman.

And now Linda Russo.

The triple killer. Roy had served on the initial task force that was created after the first murders, and the closest they had ever come to the killer was an FBI profile. Something about the way the triple killer placed the victims - so they looked like they were resting peacefully - had angered Roy. This man, this killer, had come into the homes of innocent women, brutally strangled them and ripped away the peace and happiness of six families, and then he had the audacity to pose them as though they were just sleeping.

It got to him.

It became his Case. The one that got away. The one that kept him up at night, long after he should have gone to bed.

For years he had been on tenterhooks, waiting for more murders. Convinced that every further woman that died at that man's hands was on Roy's fault. For not being smarter, quicker, more astute.

As the years had passed, the blind terror that this man would kill again had faded to the back of Roy's mind. But it had never gone away.

A man like the triple killer didn't just stop. Not after he had got a taste for killing. Roy had always known he would be back.

And now he was.

But the triple killer had made one great mistake.

Roy had deep faith in all of his detectives. They worked hard, they got results. But he had never seen anything like Kate Beckett. She would catch 3XK. It was only a matter of time.

Then Cal came back. Cal Townsend, the father of Sara, the second victim in the original killings. The reason why the triple killer had got under Roy's skin. Cal had been more than just another family member of a vic.

Roy had personally been the one to tell Cal that his daughter – his only child – was never coming home. Cal had looked at him, and in that moment, and Roy thought he could see into the man's very soul. The pain, the agony, that Roy saw there had stayed with him forever.

At that moment they hadn't been a Detective and a next of kin. They were just two fathers, confronted with the reality of having a child brutally ripped away, and Roy shivered with the knowledge that it could just as easily be him someday, being told that one of his girls was never coming home.

In that moment, Roy had vowed that he would catch the son of a bitch that killed Sara Townsend. But he never had. It was a failure that had claimed a piece of his soul.

Now years later, Cal was before him again, saying he had reporters coming around to his house, telling him that the triple killer was back. He asked Roy if it was true. And once again, Roy had to reassure the man that he was doing everything he could to catch his daughter's killer. And once again he had to see the pain, and disappointment in his eyes.

Just as he was leaving, Cal looked into his eyes, and begged him not to let it happen to another family.

Not to _let _it happen. Because even Cal knew that Roy had failed. And every new murder was on his conscience, because he _let_ a guilty man get away.

* * *

><p>Marcus Gates.<p>

Roy rolled the name around in his mind. Marcus Gates. The triple killer.

Two days, and Beckett had managed to chase the guy to a bar in the Meatpacking District. He knew she was good.

Roy went personally to the take down. He wanted to look into the son of a bitch's eyes when they cornered him. Wanted to see the despair when he knew that he was caught.

But Marcus Gates laughed at him.

They took him back to the precinct. Roy watched Gates sit calmly in the interrogation room from behind the one-way mirror.

"Cold, implacable, the triple killer remains at ease, calm, in the lair of his enemy, with a resting heart rate of 50, set to match wits with his interrogators," said Castle beside him.

Roy glared at him.

"I just wanted to bring a literary flair to the moment, you know?" Castle continued.

Roy glared again. Sometimes he had no idea what Beckett saw in the man. Castle shut up.

The writer was spared from further harm but the arrival of Beckett entering through the door of the observation room, with the news that they had a warrant for Gates' apartment, which Ryan and Esposito were turning over as they spoke.

Roy knew that wasn't enough. They needed more than circumstantial evidence in this case. There was no way he was making the victim's families re-live all of this in court, only to have the case turned over, or the charges downgraded because of a lack of evidence.

Roy Montgomery was not going to _let_ this man hurt another family, ever again.

Castle moved from beside him, headed to join Beckett in the interrogation room.

Roy reached out and laid a hand on the writer's forearm, stopping him. "Not this one, Castle," he said quietly.

This man strangled beautiful, defenceless women, probably due to some past trauma. The sight of Beckett, a powerful, intimidating, stunning woman, who held the power, and was not going to play by his rules, was going to mess with Gates. Roy didn't want anything messing that up.

The writer nodded, apparently aware of the gravity of this case, even if he had just tried to narrate the situation. They watched Beckett enter the interrogation room and take a seat.

Roy poised, tense, his entire being focused on the killer on the other side of the one-way mirror. If they had any chance at getting this guy to run off at the mouth and implicate himself, it was going to come from Beckett.

Every nerve in Roy's body was attuned to the moment, six years of pain and frustration resting on this moment. He felt Castle stiffen beside him, his gaze locked on the movement in the room before them.

But where Roy's whole attention was fixed on Gates' every breath, the writer's gaze was wholly focused on the detective sitting across from the triple killer.

Roy wasn't blind. He could see what was happening between the author and his best detective, probably better than they could. He imaged how the writer must feel, watching the woman he cared about locked in a room with a man who had murdered at least eight women. For a moment he almost felt bad about stopping the writer from going into the interrogation.

But this case was far more important than one man's feelings. And they were both aware that the detective could more than take care of herself.

Then Marcus Gates alibied out.

But it was him. Roy was sure of it. Now they knew who the guy was, they just had to get the evidence to prove it. They would build a solid case, Roy vowed. They would bring justice.

Watching Gates leave the precinct was a knife in the guts.

"Well, with this triple killer on the loose, you all better keep your loved ones close," said Gates as he left, a smirk never leaving his face. "Gosh, I hope you catch him."

Roy could almost see Beckett's blood boil as she watched him. Castle moved a step closer to her, whether to calm her down or in response to Gates' thinly veiled threat, Roy wasn't sure.

_Enjoy the sunshine, _Roy thought at Gates' departing back. _Because we are going to build a case against you that is so strong, you'll never see fresh air again._

* * *

><p>Roy watched as his team work extra hours, turning over every piece of evidence in the case, every possible lead.<p>

Finally, they realised that their only real lead was Jerry Tyson, the cellmate of Marcus Gates.

At first, Tyson didn't want to talk, too afraid of reprisal attacks the prison if anyone found out he's a snitch. So they secured an early release from jail for Tyson, and then made sure he has protective police custody for him and his girlfriend.

Roy knew it would be worth it, once Tyson gave them the evidence they needed to finally build a case against Gates.

Tyson was able to give them all sorts of details that help build a case. But the one that finally clinched it was when Tyson told them that 3XK sometimes worked with a partner. From there they were able to track down his partner, a foster brother of Gates' from when he was a teenager. When they threatened to send his foster brother to prison, Gates finally cracked and confessed.

That night, Roy Montgomery had one of the highlights of his careers. He called Cal Townsend and invited him down to the precinct so the man could watch as Marcus Gates confessed to the murder of his daughter. Roy couldn't bring Sara back, but he could show Cal that they caught the demon who killed his daughter, and prove that he'll never be able to hurt another woman again.

After the interrogation he walked Cal to the elevator with a new sense of purpose, and something precious that he thought was gone; hope.

Once Cal had gone, Roy went back over to where Beckett was completing the formal arrest paperwork for Marcus Gates. "Great job, Detective."

"Thank you, Sir," she smiled back at him.

Roy couldn't shake the feeling that he was lighter somehow. As though he had been holding his breath for 6 years, and now he could exhale. "I think after a day like that, it's time to head home to my kids." He smiled unconsciously at the thought of their smiling faces.

"I think I'll do the same, Sir," replied Beckett. "I'm just waiting for Castle." Roy remembered that Castle and Ryan had gone down to pick up Jerry Tyson, and let him know that Gates had confessed. The detective glanced at her watch. "In fact, I would have thought they'd be back by now. I might just give him a call."

Roy nodded at the younger detective as she pulled out her cell phone and headed to his office to pack up his briefcase for the night. He had just finished, and was reaching for his jacket when Beckett burst into the room.

"Sir! We need to send a team to the safe house we had Jerry Tyson at. Castle and Ryan are in trouble."

"What? What did Castle say?" Roy asked urgently.

"It doesn't make sense. They should be back by now. I don't think Gates is the killer. I think Tyson is the 3XK and he set Gates up to take the fall in exchange for paying for his foster brother's heart surgery."

"Did you try calling Castle?" The detective nodded. "What did he say?"

"We don't have time…" Beckett hedged.

"Detective! I'll order a response team. But you have to tell me what he said that makes you think they're in danger. I need more than just a crazy theory."

"He said he loves me."

Roy froze. "What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"You heard me," the detective replied, looking defiant despite the deep blush staining her cheeks.

"Yes I heard you. You want me to order a SWAT team because Richard Castle told you he loves you? Helen Keller could have figured that one out."

"It was _how_ he said it."

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Look, maybe he does feel –that – I mean – _you know_ about me," Kate continued. Roy rolled his eyes at the level of the woman's denial. "But this is Richard Castle. If he was going to tell me he loved me he'd hire a sky writer, or have some dramatic confession in the park in the middle of a thunderstorm. He wouldn't just casually end a phone call with '_I love you'_ when he's never said it before. He was trying to tell me something, but someone was listening in on the conversation and that was the only way he could let me know something's wrong. I'm sure of it."

Roy waited, staring at the detective before him. Her agitation was obvious. She was actually terrified that something had happened to Castle and Ryan. And despite the fact that every officer in the building could see that Castle was in love with the detective, Roy Montgomery was a man who believed in his team and trusted their instincts.

So if Kate Beckett believed that Castle confessing his love was a sign of the apocalypse, he'd run with it.

"Go," he told the detective. "I'll get a team to meet you there, and I'll follow when I can." The words were barely out of his mouth before the detective was flying out the door and running to the stairs.

Roy made the call to send in a rapid response unit, and tried not to think of what he'd say to the commissioner if this was just Castle's way of making a move, and the team broke down the hotel door only to find the writer in a bed covered in rose petals.

* * *

><p>Uniforms and Beckett had already swarmed the hotel by the time Roy arrived. The site of an ambulance parked in front of the hotel sent his heart racing. Beckett came over to him as soon as he stepped out of his vehicle.<p>

"Tyson got away, Sir," she greeted him. "Castle's fine, the paramedics are just seeing Ryan. Tyson knocked him out, but he should be ok."

Roy felt his heart sink. Tyson really was 3XK. They had the wrong guy. He had hoped they were wrong, that there was some explanation for this that didn't end with the knowledge that the triple killer was still out there, ready to strike again.

He had failed.

Again.

And he would have to call Cal Townsend, and tell him that the man who killed his daughter was still free. He almost staggered backward as the weight of reality hit him.

Beckett gave him a sympathetic smile and touched his arm gently. "We'll catch him, Sir," she promised.

Roy could only nod, too burnt out to even speak.

Beckett walked off to make a phone call, leaving Roy to stand alone in the car park for a moment, watching the red and blue lights of the ambulance bounce of the glass windows.

He took a deep breath and made his way over to the other Ryan and Esposito, gathered at the back of the ambulance.

"Sir," greeted the detectives. Even the usually jovial Ryan was subdued.

"Glad to see you're alright, Detective," Roy replied.

"He got away, Sir," said Ryan, hanging his head. "If it hadn't been for Castle, I wouldn't have even realised we had the wrong guy."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Detective. He had us all fooled."

The three of them stood in silence for a moment, staring up at the motel in the darkness.

"Esposito said you ordered everyone down here, Sir. But what I don't get is, how did you know to come here? How did you know that Tyson was the threat?" Ryan asked.

"Beckett phoned Castle to see where he was, and he told her he loved her. Beckett said she knew something had to be horribly wrong," said Roy dryly.

That a least got a smile from the two other detectives.

The three men stood in silence for a moment, until a uniform appeared to offer them coffee. Roy refused the beverage and walked away from the back of the ambulance, deep in thought.

He stopped suddenly at the fence surrounding the hotel pool and lent against it. In front of him, he watched the gentle ripples on the surface of the water and wanted to kick something.

He wanted to howl. He wanted someone to see the complete unfairness of the situation. He wanted to make things right.

He heard Beckett's voice again, and for a moment he thought the detective was talking to him. He turned, and spotted her taking a seat on a bench by the pool. Castle was sitting by her side, and Roy realised it was the writer she was talking to.

"Here you go," Beckett was saying, handing Castle a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," he said. He gestured to the phone in Beckett's hand. "Kids ok?" he asked, and Roy knew that must have been who Beckett was calling when she left him alone earlier.

"Martha said she can stay as late as we need."

"Thanks," said the writer. "Just a few more minutes. I don't want the kids to see me like this."

Beckett lent into his side. "Take as long as you need," she said softly. "There's just one thing I don't get. Why did he let you live?"

Castle looked at her in surprise, as though the answer was obvious. "To punish me. To make me pay for ruining his plan. Now he's going to kill again. All because I couldn't stop him. I failed. And I have to re-live that failure every day now." The writer closed his eyes. "I feel so guilty."

Maybe someone else would have tried to reassure the writer that it was not his fault. But Beckett carried mountains too. She knew the weight. She knew that no amount of logic could change that pain.

"I know the feeling," Beckett replied. Roy watched as she reached out and rested her hand on the writer's thigh.

"I know you do," Castle replied. He reached down and placed his right hand in her left, lacing their fingers together.

Roy watched them for a moment as they stared unseeingly into the distance, tucked in together, hands linked.

_This is the reality of the job_, Roy knew. The one that got away. The pain you have to carry. Responsibility. Guilt.

It was the burden that every officer knew. And now Richard Castle knew what it meant to bear the weight.

Now there were mountains upon his back, too.

But Richard Castle was a strong man.

He could take it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for all the feedback and honesty. You guys are amazing! I was worried about having a too "Kate-POV-centric" slant to this fic, but apparently I've gone too far the other way, and most of you are frustrated with Kate and can't understand what she's thinking. Sorry about that! Hopefully this chapter starts to clarify where our dynamic duo are at, and the next chapter is Kate's POV (and rather heavy, since it will cover 'Knockdown') which will shake things up.

This chapter is Lanie POV.

* * *

><p>Lanie was absolutely not dancing in the morgue.<p>

Ok, so her hips were doing a little swaggle in response to the Kanye track the guys in toxicology were playing next door. That didn't count.

She was definitely not mid belly roll when she heard someone laugh behind her.

"I wasn't dancing," she blurted, spinning around.

"Of course you weren't," said a voice from the doorway. The medical examiner looked up to find Richard Castle's grinning face staring at her.

"Oh, it's just you, Castle," she said dismissively.

"Hey! Not 'just me'. People have queued for hours just to get a smile and an autograph from me. I'm a New York Times bestseller!"

"And the bestselling book of this century is _Twilight._ Turns out popularity is no arbiter of quality."

The writer staggered back, his hands flying to his chest and though he had been hit by an imaginary bullet. "You wound me, fair lady," he cried. "Although I may forgive you, just for using 'arbiter' in casual conversation."

Lanie rolled her eyes. "You come here for a reason, or just to try my patience?"

"I'm here for the report on the case. Beckett's totally snowed under, so I thought I could help out by coming to get it, and you could let me know anything important in person." He wandered around the room, idly poking at things.

"Oh," _that's actually kind of sweet_, Lanie thought. She almost felt bad for mocking him.

"Of course, I had no idea I'd get such good blackmail material while I was here. Is that hip swivel-bootie-shake a practiced routine, or do you just make it up as you go along?"

Scratch that. She did not feel one bit bad for mocking him. In fact, she wished she'd been harder on him. "Honestly, Beckett should be up for Sainthood, for putting up with you 24 hours a day."

Castle laughed in a distracted manner, picking up instruments from the tray before him and idly turning them over. Lanie made her way over to her desk in the corner of the room. "Put down the kidney dish and come over here," she ordered, feeling as though she was talking to a three year old. She opened the file on her computer and printed out a copy of the report.

As she picked up the report from the printer she turned to face Castle. He had put down the kidney dish, but was now wielding a scalpel, charging around the room thrusting the scalpel in his right hand out before him as though fencing an invisible sword-wielding enemy, his left raised above his head in a classic fencing pose.

"Castle!" Lanie shouted.

Castle dropped his arms to his side, looking guilty at the ME.

"Put down the scalpel," she growled.

He placed the scalpel back in the kidney dish.

"Walk over here. Do not touch anything on the way."

Castle shot her a sheepish look and walked across the room.

"Do not speak!" said Lanie, catching sight of the writer opening his mouth to talk to her. She shook her head. "I had been thinking how glad I was that Beckett had you to help with the boys. But honestly, I think they might be more mature than you are."

"I-"

"Do not speak!" Lanie repeated.

"But-"

"I don't want to hear it! You are going to stand there, and listen to this report, then you are going to return to the precinct without delay and communicate that information to Detective Beckett, do you understand?"

The writer mimed zipping his mouth shut, and nodded.

"Good."

Lanie informed the writer of her findings, and then handed him a copy of her formal report. Apparently, Castle was still intimidated enough from her outburst to head directly back to the 12th without messing up anymore of her lab equipment.

_I wonder if Kate sometimes feels like she has seven year old triplets, instead of twins,_ thought Lanie as she watched the writer's retreating form.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Lanie was back in the morgue, in body, if not in spirit.<p>

God she was tired.

Lanie slid the morgue drawer closed, watching the body on the steel tray slowly disappear. She closed the door and turned the handle to make sure the door was sealed shut. She stripped off her sterile gloves and dropped them into the bin and disinfected her hands with a squirt of alcohol gel. She let out a sigh, then reached up to rub at the ache in the side of her neck, moving her head to stretch out the aching muscle.

Honestly, it was only nine-thirty in the morning. Of course, the fact that she'd been called at four am after just three hours of sleep, to pick up the body she had just closed up in the drawer probably justified her aching muscles.

She really needed a coffee.

After dropping off her Dictaphone with the report from her initial impressions of the scene and preliminary cause of death with one of the secretaries for typing, Lanie made her way down to the break room. She started the coffee pot and contemplated the rows of packaged sugary high fructose corn syrup pretending to be food that were lined up in the vending machine. Nothing looked even close to appealing, but her stomach was grumbling from her missed breakfast. Finally she decided on something pretending to be an oatmeal bran muffin and dug around in her scrubs pocket for a single.

There was a noise in the corridor outside the break room, and Lanie looked up to see Castle entering the morgue. It looked like he was headed to the autopsy room.

"Castle!" she called.

The writer looked up and caught sight of her, waving. He changed direction and walked over to the break room.

"Back again?" she asked. She looked around, but Castle appeared to be alone once more. "No Beckett?"

"Alas, our fair detective is at the precinct interviewing the next of kin and was unable to accompany me. You shall just have to impugn my dress sense, writing abilities and personal hygiene standards alone this morning."

The ME chuckled. "Oh I won't do that, Castle" Lanie assured him. "It's far too big a job for one person. I'll have to get Perlmutter to help."

He writer looked aghast. "Truce, Lady Parish," he cried, hastily pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and waving it in defeat.

"Aren't flags of surrender supposed to be white?" Lanie asked, gesturing to his blue handkerchief and raising one eyebrow.

"See, already assailing my fashion choices. You don't need any assistance."

The coffee machine let out a beep to signal it was done. Lanie poured herself a cup and gathered up her plastic wrapped 'oatbran muffin' from the vending machine, taking a seat at the break room table.

"What on Earth is that?" Castle asked, horrified.

"Breakfast."

Castle shuddered.

"Seriously, writer boy? Room full of entrails and blood spatter and you're like a kid in a candy store. But my vending machine breakfast grosses you out?"

"Not the 'muffin', the beverage accompanying it. I refuse to call that 'coffee'. It's an embarrassment to Starbucks everywhere."

Lanie took a sip of her coffee, just to aggravate the writer. "_Starbucks?_ Seriously? And you call yourself a coffee drinker?"

"Beckett likes their Pumpkin Spice Latte," Castle whined.

Lanie raised an eyebrow.

"Ok! I like the little sugar cookies with the cinnamon on top too," the writer admitted.

"Remind me to never trust you with state secrets," Lanie said. "You'd crack faster than Humpty Dumpty in a hurricane."

Castle pouted. "Anyway, I was just on my way into the precinct after dropping the kids off at school, and Beckett asked me to swing by here and see if you had any preliminary findings from the vic this morning."

It was obvious the writer was changing the subject, but Lanie went along with it. "Marie Vandles, 48 years old, lived alone. COD was an insulin overdose. I'm pretty confident I'll be ruling this one as suicide. No signs of a struggle or any violence or injury. She's a nurse, and her workplace confirms that she would have easy access to insulin. Marie had a past history of multiple episodes of depression and had been extremely depressed despite medication and regular psychotherapy since the death of her only child last year. I'll need you and Beckett to check whether she exhibited any signs of suicidal planning over the last few days; giving away valuables, ending her lease, seeming inexplicably upbeat and the like. But she did leave a suicide note which has her fingerprints all over it, and then there's the sharps container."

"Sharps container?"

"You know those big yellow bins we have on the wall to put in needles and scalpel blades and things so no one can accidentally prick themselves?" Lanie asked. At the writer's nod, she continued. "Beside the suicide note was a plastic container with the empty insulin needle which was used for the overdose in it."

"And that makes you think it's a suicide?"

"Insulin overdose – it's a clean death. It's the kind of thing that's done by someone who knows what they're doing. Like all poisoning suicides, it's more common in women. But, more than that, it leaves a 'clean' body. Some people believe that that is less distressing to whoever finds the body than say a hanging, or gun shot or jumping in front of a train, which could potentially traumatize the train driver. So Marie killed herself in a way that required medical knowledge, that left a clean body for someone to find, left a suicide note explaining that this was no one's fault, that she just missed her son too much and she even made sure the 'weapon' – the insulin syringe – was in a modified sharps container so no one else could be injured accidentally and had her fingerprints all over it. That evidence of thinking of others, even in planning her death, is consistent with the suicide of a very caring individual who just had too much she couldn't overcome."

Castle was quiet, contemplative. "Poor woman," he said quietly. "Losing her son…I can't imagine how painful that would be."

Lanie nodded. "She had been raising him alone since the father left when the kid was little. Struggling to make ends meet, pulling double shifts, according to the manager at the hospital. Apparently the son was the son was a good Baller, looking at maybe getting a college scholarship, and then he was mucking about with some friends walking down the street and someone bumped him, and he fell onto the road and was hit by a car. Senseless. You don't get over that kind of thing, I guess."

They sat together at the tiny break room table. Lanie took another sip of her coffee.

"Speaking of having a tough time, how have you been coping?" Lanie asked.

"Me? Kate's the one who lost her cousin. I can hardly complain, under the circumstances."

"Yeah she lost her cousin, but you picked up two kids. That's a pretty big life change too. It's ok to need some time to adjust to that."

"The boys are amazing." He smiled. "Exhausting. My God! I forgotten how much energy kids take, and the twins are a thousand times worse than Alexis. But, I didn't think I'd ever have a son, and now I've got two, so it's like a dream come true."

"Any other dreams coming true?" the ME asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Lanie," Castle muttered.

"What?! You and Kate are living together, and you take care of kids together and you work together. I think it's reasonable to ask if you're doing anything else together."

"Baths," he replied.

"What?" cried Lanie, her face incredulous.

"Yep. Every night. It's a bit of a squash to get two people in there, but we manage. We fill up that big tub with warm, soapy water, pour in the bubbles and -"

The writer paused, and Lanie found herself leaning forward in anticipation.

"And the twins hop in and have a bath together."

Lanie groaned.

Castle let out a wicked laugh at the look of disappointment on the ME's face.

"I suppose I deserved that," Lanie acknowledged. "Still, you need to man up. Tell her how you feel."

"It's not about 'manning up', Lanie. I'm not going to push her into something she doesn't want."

"Come on writer boy, we both know she wants this."

"She said that to you?" Castle asked. Lanie was silent. "I thought not," he added, seeing the look on Lanie's face.

"Just because she hasn't come right out and said it, doesn't mean it isn't true." The ME defended.

"I know that," Castle sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I really, really hope she does want it. God Lanie, that woman!" an involuntary smile crossed the writer's face, his eyes glazing over for a moment as his thoughts took him far away. He shook his head after a moment, coming back to the present. "I hope you're right. But she just had her apartment blown up, lost all her possessions, then lost her cousin and gained custody of two kids. I don't want her home life to be unbearable because she's got this jerk pushing her into something she's not ready for, or doesn't want at all. It's not like she could just up and leave if things got uncomfortable. Our temporary guardianship of the twins is based on our current living arrangement, and with the bombing, it's not like she has another apartment to go to. And – well I probably shouldn't say this, and I wouldn't to anyone else, but I'm sure you know – she's broke."

"That's doesn't mean-" Lanie started to say.

"It does. I don't want her to be with me out of gratitude, or worse, because she doesn't have a choice. Beside, at least this way I can pay for the boys' school fees, and the groceries, and she doesn't have to pay rent. I'm not going to rock the boat and have her move out and starve to death."

The ME watched him for a moment, considering. "There's more to it than that," she told the writer.

"That's not enough?"

"Oh no, that's more than enough, for anyone. But there's more to it for you, isn't there?"

Castle faltered, his eyes closing, head dropping into his hands.

"You can talk to me," Lanie offered.

"You're Kate's friend," Castle hedged.

"I'm both of your friends," Lanie replied. "I can keep things in confidence. We'll call it doctor-patient privilege."

The writer looked up from his hands and smiled grimly. "All you're patients are dead, Doc. Excuse me if I don't want to join them."

Lanie laughed. She moved closer to the writer and placed her hand gently on his arm. "Castle," she said softly. "I'm serious. I get why you can't talk to Kate about this, or your mother or daughter. I'm guessing you don't want to talk to your poker buddies or Javi and Ryan. So if you want someone to talk to, who isn't going to judge you or tell anyone, I'm here anytime, ok?"

The writer was silent for a long moment. Just when Lanie thought he was about to get up and leave, he spoke. "I don't want to be too greedy," he whispered.

Lanie furrowed her brows in confusion, and waited for him to go on.

"I just – I-" the writer paused, uncharacteristically struggling for words. "I don't have a great track record with women I actually care about – Kira, Gina, Meredith – even my mom was always off with bigger, brighter stars when I was a boy. I don't even know who my father is. Alexis is the one person in my life who is always there and I'm terrified every day that I'll let her down."

He paused for a moment, considering his words. "I don't want to reach for more than I deserve. I am so close – _so close – _to the dream. I live in a beautiful four-bedroom apartment with the most incredible, brave, sexy woman I've ever met, raising our three beautiful children that I couldn't love more if I tried. I spend all day doing the things I love most in the world – following around my incredible partner and make up fantastical stories that people actually pay me lots of money to read. I could not have designed a better life for myself if I picked up a genie in a lamp and got three wishes. Yeah, the one thing that could make it perfect would be to truly be with Kate. But I don't want to gamble everything by pushing her, only to have her walk away too, and watch my dream life disappear like that genie in a cloud of smoke."

Lanie sat for a moment, stunned by the brutal honesty of his confession. "Oh, Castle," she signed, leaning into him, her arms going around him. Castle stiffened momentarily, embarrassed, then relaxed and returned the hug.

They hugged for a moment, and then Lanie lent back, making eye contact with the writer. "You deserve this," she told him, firmly. "Kate deserves this. I'm not going to tell you it's going to be all sunshine and lollipops, because this is reality, and in reality you have to work at relationships. Kate is going to prickle up and try and push you away when she feels vulnerable. Deep down I think she's still a little in awe of _Richard Castle the writer,_ and the fame thing, and feeling like she's not good enough for you. You both repress your emotions because you're afraid of hurting each other. You're both terrified of everyone you love leaving you. And sometimes, Castle, you frustrate the hell out of everyone by never taking anything seriously or doing what people say."

Lanie locked eyes with him, hoping he would appreciate the sincerity of what she was saying. "But none of that matters. Because you are completely worthy of a full and loving adult relationship, Castle. I know that now might not be the time, but don't wait for too long and let it pass you buy. Someday you just gonna have to shit or get off the pot, okay?"

Castle smiled, looking sheepish and hopeful all at the same time. "Yes, doctor," he said.

* * *

><p>Their conversation stayed with Lanie, and she found herself thinking about it again that night. She'd been a little sexist, and maybe a little simplistic when she'd looked at Castle and Kate.<p>

She'd seen the potential there (_the whole world could see that_ she thought) and all she'd been able to think about was how they'd make such a hot couple, and why the hell weren't they going for it already.

At first, Lanie had just thought Kate should sleep with the writer, because _damn_, there was that hot as hell tension and Castle looked like he could bring the goods. And Kate had a bit of that hero worship thing going on, and even if Lanie had believed it would never last, how cool would it be to know that you'd made your favourite author so hot and bothered he wrote a book about you?

Then Castle had become a bit of fixture, and one book turned into a series, and suddenly one day Lanie had realised that Kate had gone beyond just physical attraction was getting all 'feeling-y' toward the writer.

Though a few years ago, Lanie would never have thought that a playboy writer could be the love of her best friend's life, as he stuck around and their friendship deepened, Lanie began to root for something long term to crop up between the pair. She started to see the heart behind the 'wham bam thank you ma'am' persona that Castle projected to the world. She began to see the way that his humour and lightness and fun could balance the darkness that hung over Kate ever since her mother's murder and her father's descent into the bottle. And she saw the way that Kate's passion and dedication gave gravity and depth to Castle.

So she'd been frustrated when Castle wouldn't make a move. For all that she'd teased Kate about making a move on writer-boy, she'd never really expected the detective would be the one to push things forward. She'd always thought Castle would have to initiate things.

Was she being sexist? Lanie wondered. Had she just assumed he would make the move because he was the guy?

Lanie had no problem with a girl who took the bull by the horns, so to speak. She'd busted a move on many a guy in her life. If she saw something she wanted, she went after it. She didn't wait around for it to find her. So why had the idea of Kate being the one to start something with Castle seem so strange?

Maybe it was because of Kate's past. Her loss of anything resembling a family when she was just starting out in the world. When Lanie decided that whatever was between Kate and the writer could be something permanent, she'd also subconsciously thought that it was something Kate would have to be…eased into. The detective didn't trust easily, and so she'd known that Castle would have to prove himself first.

And he had. He'd stood by her, and moved heaven and earth to help her when she needed it. And not just with the boys – he'd given her a place to live, he'd helped with her mother's case (because even if that had pissed of the detective, Lanie knew his heart was in the right place).

Castle had stood by, and proven every day that he wasn't going anywhere. That he was in it for the long haul.

And now, Lanie realised; the ball was in Kate's court.

She just had to make the detective realise it.

* * *

><p>Ah, Friday. That most blessed of days. Lanie had pulled so many double shifts this week she was thinking about subletting her apartment and moving into the morgue. She could set up a little cot in the back office, use the kitchen in the break room and the decontamination showers occasionally to stay clean. Maybe Castle could write a spin-off series for Dr Lauren Perry from the <em>Heat <em>books, "Sleeping with the Dead" or something.

Oh, wow, that was a horrible idea. She really, _really, _needed to get some sleep.

It had been a long case, but the detectives had finally had the breakthrough they needed. Beckett and the boys were off arresting the latest perp, so she was free to head home.

On the way out of the lab she sent a flirty text to Javier, smirking slightly when he replied not 30 seconds later. _Oh yeah, I still got it, _she thought. A few more texts and they had a hot date for the next night.

She stopped for Thai takeout on the way home, and promised herself again that she was going to start eating healthy and getting more exercise first thing tomorrow. Then she sat up on her couch with her takeout, poured herself a generous glass of wine and settled in to watch a trashy reality series on TV.

When she finally dragged herself off to bed an hour later, she fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

* * *

><p>People often didn't realise that Lanie was a girl.<p>

Well, anyone with eyes could tell she was female, but something about her – probably her job, Lanie often thought – meant people didn't realise she was a _girl._ That she loved blowing a whole paycheck on a gorgeous dress, or that she got up half an hour earlier to straighten her hair and do her make-up, even on the days when she knew the only people she'd see were either dead or Perlmutter.

So on Saturday morning, she treated herself to some pampering. She lay back on her couch, an avocado mud mask on her face, with twin cucumber slices balanced delicately on her eyes, some old school soul playing lightly on her stereo. It was bliss. Right until her cell phone blared from the coffee table and she jumped in fright. The cucumber slices fell from their position on her eyes and scattered across the floor.

The caller ID read 'Kate Beckett'. She hit speaker, since she wasn't quite sure if avocado mud masks were iPhone compatible.

"Hey," she said, bending to look under the couch. _Where had that second cucumber slice gone?_

"I need a girls' day." Kate pleaded. "These boys are driving me nuts."

Lanie smiled. "Which ones? The ones at home, or the ones at the precinct?"

"All of them," the detective groaned. "There are far too many 'boys' in my life."

Lanie laughed.

"So I need you to save me," Kate continued. "The twins are taking Castle to the park to run off some excess energy, and you, me and Alexis are going to have a girls' day."

"I'll book us in for mani-pedis?"

"Not that girly," protested Beckett and Lanie could picture the way Kate would be looking disgusted, her nose crinkled up as though there was a bad smell.

"Shall we do each others hair and talk about boys?" Lanie teased.

"Oh God," said Kate. "Have you even met me?"

Now that she had worn her down a bit with horrible suggestions, Lanie went in for the kill. "Well, the outdoor cinema near me is screening a classic this afternoon that I was going to see. Do you want to come?"

"A classic? Which film is it?"

Ah, Lanie would have to tread lightly here. Kate could smell a rat.

"Oh it's a great movie. _Singin' in the Rain._ Have you seen it?"

"No," said Kate warily. "Sounds a bit…" she trailed off, and Lanie wondered if she'd been about it say that it sounded a bit girly, and then remembered that she'd be the one who requested a girls' day.

"You'll love it. There's a car chase and undercover cops and a shootout at the end."

"Hmm," Beckett didn't sound convinced. Lanie heard Alexis ask her what they were talking about. "_Singin' in the Rain_," Kate replied.

"Oh I love that movie!" Alexis said.

Lanie knew they had her now.

"Come on, Kate," she cajoled. "I'll take you to that amazing coffee place for Spanish mochas afterwards."

"Alright," Kate reluctantly agreed.

* * *

><p>"You are a dirty liar, Dr Parish," said Kate as they left the outdoor cinema. "There was not a shootout or undercover cops in that movie!"<p>

Lanie laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face when they started singing!"

"I kept waiting for it to be revealed that Kathy was an undercover rookie sent in to bust up the drug ring that was clearly going on. Why were they always singing and dancing? That guy was running up walls and flipping over! He was totally on meth. And what was with that weird dancing montage if it wasn't a drug trip?"

Lanie was laughing so hard she was having trouble breathing.

"I'm sorry you didn't like it," Alexis was saying. She looked a little upset. "I hope you weren't too bored?"

"Oh no, Alexis, it's fine," Kate reassured her. "You know I just like more action-y films in general."

The younger girl looked reassured, but Kate still poked her tongue out at Lanie when Alexis wasn't looking.

Since she did feel a little bad about misleading Kate, Lanie decided she could pay for the drinks at the little Spanish café they headed to after the movie The small café was crowded, but they managed to find a table for three down the back.

Despite the crowd, service was quick, and a waitress was there to take their orders only a minute after they sat down.

Once they'd ordered, Lanie turned to the detective. "So, where exactly are your boys today?" she asked.

"Having a man-date in the city, the exact location of which we are not allowed to know." Kate huffed in exasperation. "Rick's going to bring the twins home all hyped up on sugar, and he'll be the one dealing with the consequences."

"You realise you just included Richard Castle as one of 'your boys' now, don't you Kate?" Lanie asked, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Something you want to share with the group?"

Kate let her patented Beckett eye roll speak for her.

"No comment?" Lanie mused. "That's fine. I'm sure Alexis has plenty of ammunition..er, I mean information, to tell me." She turned her attention to the teenager.

"There's nothing to tell, is there Alexis?" said the detective, shooting the young redhead a look.

"Hmm," said Alexis, pretending to think.

Lanie leaned forward in anticipation.

"No, there's nothing to tell," Alexis agreed. Kate sat back in her chair, looking relieved and a little bit smug. Lanie slumped back in disappointment.

"I mean," Alexis continued. "Lanie already knows how you finish each other sentences and make moon-eyes at each other."

"Alexis!" shouted Kate.

The teenager smirked.

"Well," said Kate turning the tables on the redhead. "How about we talk some more about how things are going with Ashley? Is that a hickey I see on your neck?"

Alexis blushed. "Okay, okay! I surrender!"

"No stories?" the detective asked.

"No stories," Alexis confirmed. "Actually, I'm just going to head to the bathroom while we wait for the drinks. Mind my bag?" She gestured to her handbag, sitting beside her chair.

"Of course," said Kate.

The moment the teenager was out of sight, Lanie pounced on the detective.

"He's not going to wait around forever, you know."

"Who? Ashley?"

"Very funny," she said dryly. "Richard Castle."

"I don't know what –" Kate started to say, but Lanie interrupted her.

"Don't you try to lie to me, girl." Maybe other people would have approached the topic with more tact, but Lanie had always been the type to go with the direct approach. If the waiter came over, or Alexis came back then Kate would change the subject, and Lanie would lose her chance. So she started the detective down, waiting for a response.

Truthfully, Lanie had expected prevarication or even down right evasion from the other woman. They were both aware that Alexis would be back from the bathroom any moment, and Lanie wouldn't press the subject with the teenager present. All Kate had to do was hedge for a few moments, and she'd be off the hook.

So Lanie was surprised when the detective said, quietly, "Do you think I don't know that?"

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"I'm a mess, Lanie! I'm still not over my mom and Maggie dying. I'm terrified everyone I love is going to leave me. I'm a horrible mother, I have no idea what I'm doing with the boys, and I'm so mad at Maggie for dying and leaving me with them. And that's so stupid, because she _died_. She didn't want to leave them and I'm sure she's up there somewhere looking down at my complete incompetence and she'd give anything to come back and take the boys away from me."

Taken aback, Lanie scooted her chair around and pulled Kate into a hug. "You're not a bad mother," she whispered, stroking the detective's back. "The fact that you even feel that way proves you're not. Horrible mothers don't spend all their time worrying that they're horrible mothers, they don't give a shit about their kids or how good or bad they're treating them. You're pretty new to this gig. I think you need to cut yourself some slack. Everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes, especially at the start."

Kate sniffled, breaking out of Lanie's hug and discreetly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Thanks, Lanie," she said. Then she smiled at someone over Lanie's shoulder.

Lanie turned and found Alexis standing awkwardly behind her, obviously on her way back from the bathroom.

Alexis sat back down, looking conflicted. "Sorry, I didn't mean to overhear. But…I mean, I know you're not my mom or anything, but…I – sometimes I wish you were. I think you're an amazing mother to Eli and Zeke. And I think your cousin would be proud too."

"Thanks, Lex," said Kate, with suspiciously moist eyes. She looked like she might say more, but they were interrupted by a waitress arriving with their drinks.

That sat in silence for a moment, not wanting to go back to the emotional charged scene, but unsure of how to proceed. Lanie took a sip of her no-fat Spanish mocha and just about burnt her lip off.

"I'm not sure I want to know this, but how are things with Espo?" Kate asked. Lanie appreciated the detective's question, even if it was probably just an excuse to change the topic of conversation.

"Amazing," she replied, and couldn't help the smirk that escaped when she recalled the way he'd kissed her, leaning up against her apartment door after their last date. That man's tongue…well, she was certainly looking forward to their date tonight.

"Lanie," Kate hissed, her eyes sliding to Alexis. Apparently the smirk on her face was slightly more suggestive than Lanie had realised.

"Now, Kate Beckett, why would you assume I was talking about sex?" the ME's tone was pure innocence. "I'm sure Javi is very skilful – or he will be when I'm finished with him – but we aren't ready for that just yet."

"You're not?" Kate blurted, surprised. Then the detective's eye slid back to Alexis. "I mean…er… taking things slow is good. Sensible. Wait a while. Wait until you're married, in fact. Very sensible."

Lanie decided to ignore the latter part of that statement and answer the question. "We're not ready just yet." She paused for a moment, then sighed. For a moment, the normally confident ME felt herself slump slightly. "This could – this could really be something, Kate. Someone who makes me laugh, who doesn't smother me or treat me like I'm made of glass, who understands the job. I just really don't want to rush into things and stuff it up."

The detective's face softened. "Yeah. I get that," she said.

Silence fell over the table. Lanie thought about Javi. She thought about the string of guys she dated over the last few years. Most guys ran screaming when they heard about her job. Sometimes the ones who didn't were even worse. Somehow her job attracted the guys with the weird fetishes.

When Lanie looked up, Kate was smiling softly to herself across the table, and Lanie was willing to bet her 401K the detective was thinking about a certain mystery writer. Honestly, maybe she should just forget about trying to make Kate make a move. Maybe she should just lock the two of them in the tiny autoclaving room at the morgue and let nature take its course.

Her attention was momentarily captured by Alexis, who was alternately looking at Kate, looking at Lanie, opening her mouth, blushingly, closing her mouth, looking at the table and then looking back at Kate. Finally, on her third pass, Kate made eye contact with the teenager and raised an eyebrow in question.

"It's just…I mean…" Alexis' face flamed redder than her hair. Her gazed dropped back to the table. "How do you know?" she mumbled.

Lanie was lost, but apparently Beckett spoke disjointed-Castle-rambling better than she did, because Kate smiled. "How do you know when you're ready to have sex?" the detective asked.

Alexis nodded, her face still on fire, her eyes glued to the froth of her hot chocolate.

Lanie met Kate's pleading eyes over the top of the younger girl's head. Lanie imagined that Kate felt that she was in a difficult position because Castle would probably want Kate to say that Alexis would be ready when she was married and over thirty-five. But Lanie knew the truth. Kate felt like she was in a difficult position because as time went on she was treating the little Castle more and more as a daughter. This was one of the times when Kate's dual roles in the younger girl's life conflicted. The friend/cool-older-sister-Kate, would have some different advice than the step-mother Kate.

Still, Lanie decided to take pity on her friend, and answer Alexis' question.

"When I was in med school, we had to deliver babies." The ME shuddered. "It was all kinds of gross. And then there was this squalling, messy package of responsibility at the end that everyone went nuts over." It hadn't really been that bad, but Lanie wanted to lighten the mood. Sure enough, Little Castle and Kate were both looking up at her in interest.

"You chop up dead people every day, and you thought labor was 'gross'?" Kate asked.

Lanie shuddered again at the memory. "Do you know what amniotic fluid smells like? That is rank. Even though you wear gloves for the delivery, you can't get the smell off your hands for days, no matter how many times you wash. It seeps into your skin or something." The other two women at the table shared a look at her expense. "Listen, do you want my advice or not?"

"Are you saying you're not ready until you can deal with the consequences?" Alexis asked, her brow furrowed slightly.

"Hell no!" the ME replied. "I'm still not ready for those kind of consequences. Babies? Diapers? Spit-up on all your clothes? Nah uh."

Alexis smiled at that, but looked confused.

"That's what birth control is for," the ME continued. "They cover that at school, right?" At Alexis' nod, she continued. "Well, if you got any questions, you make sure you ask me or Beckett. And don't let no dumb ass boy tell you that you can't get pregnant the first time, or that he'll pull out. Because you can, and he won't."

Alexis nodded again, her face so bright red Lanie might have worried she was suffering from heat exhaustion, if they weren't sitting in an air-conditioned café.

"Anyway, let me tell my story. So labor is horrible right? There's screaming and pain and vomiting and pooping yourself and lots of 'you did this to me you bastard, you're never coming near me again'. One night I'm at the desk and this woman comes in. She's pregnant for the first time, and it's my job to do an assessment, so I ask her if she thinks she's in labor. She says she's been having these little pains, but she's not sure. And so I know she's not.

"Real labor is not a maybe thing. When you're in labor, you know it." Lanie nodded. The table was silent for a minute.

"That's it?" asked Kate. "That's your advice on how to know if you're ready to have sex? What does that even have to do with sex? Besides the obvious?"

Lanie had always known Alexis was a smart kid. A fact that was only confirmed by her next statement. "No, I think I get it," said the teenager. "When you're ready, you know it. If you're not sure, than you're not ready?"

"Exactly," Lanie replied, with a smirk at Kate.

"Oh," said Kate. She appeared to contemplate it for a moment. "You know, that's actually really good advice."

"No need to sound so surprised, Detective," Lanie said, a churlish edge to her voice.

"No, I mean for all the time, not just the first time. It doesn't matter if everyone else does it on the fourth date. If you're not ready, then don't. And it doesn't matter if good girls don't do it on the first date. If you're sure you're ready…" she trailed off, suddenly seeming realise that she was speaking aloud, and that Alexis was looking at her with interest. Kate let out a groan. "Forget I said that," she told the redhead. "Your father is going to kill me."

"I think you might be able to distract him, if you mention that thing about you being ready on the first date," said the teenager with a sly smile.

Lanie laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** I'm not really happy with this chapter, but I've gone back and forward changing everything dozens of times, so I give up! Constructive criticism greatly appreciated.

Takes place during the events of_ Knockdown_ and uses some dialogue and situations from that episode, which obviously I don't own.

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett stood in the shower and stared at the wall. Her dejected spine arched over like a question mark, curving under the weight of responsibility. Her very bones ached, and there was a weight in her gut that made it almost impossible to move. She would have to move soon though. She couldn't hide in here forever.<p>

This was her alone time. This five minutes a day where she could let everything overwhelm her.

Some mornings, she cried in the shower. Great racking sobs she felt down to her toes. Some mornings she cried as silently as possible, and let the sound of the water cover any small noises she did make. She cried for her cousin's death, for the injustice of it. For every wonderful moment that she and Castle could spend with the boys that Maggie missed out on.

But mostly, she cried because she was scared.

She was scared that she was a horrible mother. She was drowning in her fears of her incompetence. For all of Castle's reassurances that she was doing fine, Kate felt far from it.

Were they setting the right rules? Was she home enough? Did the boys' feel like they could come to her with their problems?

Had she and Castle done the right thing in helping the boys' through their mother's death? Kate worried they didn't talk about Maggie enough. She didn't want to push the boys and make them more upset, but maybe they needed to do that to make sure the boys dealt with some of the issues now, and didn't bottle things up inside.

There were probably books on how to help kids deal with the loss of a parent, Kate thought. She should read one. But then when would she find the time?

And again, she felt guilty, because mothers made times for this sort of thing, didn't they? The kids came first.

God, did all working parents carry this guilt around with them every day? How did they stand it?

She didn't cry this morning. She just stared at the tile on the wall, her body utterly still while the thoughts raced around her mind, pounding her skull.

She'd cried last night though. Not the great racking sobs that came some mornings, but lying in the darkness of her room, she'd felt the tears dampen her cheeks.

Not because of her lack of maternal skills, or the loss of her cousin. For a far more selfish reason.

For Castle.

Because she was in love with him.

She didn't know when it had happened. Looking back over the last few years, she couldn't remember a time when she didn't feel a rush of _everything_ at just the thought of him. She couldn't even work out when it was that she'd realised she was in love.

This was it for her. Her one and done.

During the summer, while he was away on his book tour and Alexis had been on exchange, she'd had a lot of time to think. Alone in the city, she'd had the space to finally realise that she'd been hiding behind her mother's death, afraid to let anyone in, afraid to feel.

Although they'd talked practically every day, the summer gave her time to see what life would be like without Castle by her side.

She found she didn't like it much.

Slowly, she began to see that it was worth the risk. Admitting her feelings, moving forward, letting him in and giving him the power to break her heart if something went wrong – these were terrifying ideas. Not because she doubted Castle in any way. But really, she hadn't let anyone that close to her since her mother's murder.

She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Castle would never deliberately hurt her. But people with the very best of intentions could accidentally break your heart. Or be taken from you. And how would she ever get over losing him.

But if she didn't try, hadn't she already lost the potential for what they could be?

And could that be somehow worse than trying and losing him?

By the end of the summer she had resolved to be open to taking things further with him. She'd decided to be honest about her feelings. When they'd gone to the book launch together after the summer, it had felt like a new beginning.

Then Maggie died, and everything had gone to the wind.

And now here she was, a mess of insecurity and self-doubt, held together by fear.

She needed time. Time to pull herself together and become more like the kind of woman a man like Castle would want. He'd once called her extraordinary. She didn't feel that way anymore.

Quietly, she admitted her greatest fear: what if by the time she was ready, he wasn't waiting anymore?

And that brought everything full circle, because if Castle was gone, she was just a broke, homeless, incompetent parent. She wasn't being fair, she knew. Even if Castle gave up on _her_ he would never give up on the boys, not when he had given his word, and she knew he would still take care of them, and help out financially.

So if she gave this thing with a Castle a shot, he could break her heart and she could lose everything. But if she didn't, she might wake up one day and find there was nothing left to lose.

"Kate? Are you ok?"

The detective started suddenly at the noise just beyond the bathroom door. She took a deep breath and willed her voice not to break.

"Sorry, 'Lex. I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," Alexis replied.

Kate washed her face one last time and shut off the water. "Enough," she whispered to herself. Enough self-pity. Enough fear.

You only got one shot at life. And it was about time Kate Beckett took a risk.

* * *

><p>Every muscle screamed in protest. Her legs burned.<p>

But still she ran on.

_Nearly there,_ she thought, catching sight of the apartment building ahead. _Just a little further._

Every breath was fire in her lungs.

The pounding of sneakers on the pavement echoed in her ears, but she did not dare look behind to see how far her pursuer was.

Pulling up every ounce of willpower she possessed, Kate Beckett pushed herself relentlessly forward. Finally, just as she was sure she couldn't last another second, she reached out her hand and triumphantly slapped the side of the building before her.

Behind her, Alexis let out a groan of defeat.

Kate smiled as she collapsed against the side of the building. "The champion remains undefeated," she crowed. Well, to be honest it came out as more of a wheeze. Each time she and Alexis finished their 4 mile run with a race back to the apartment building it was harder to beat the teenager. It was only a matter of time before the younger woman was victorious.

Alexis collapsed against the wall beside her. Her face was even redder than her hair. "I'm going to take you down one day," she promised.

Kate smiled and grabbed Alexis' arm to pull her away from the wall. She slung a sweaty arm around the teenager as they headed into the building.

The doorman looked up as they entered, smiling at them both. "Hi, Mike," they greeted in unison.

"Morning, ladies," he looked as though he was trying not to laugh at them.

Kate was glad of the elevator, as she rather doubted her ability to walk up even a single flight of stairs at that moment. Even in the elevator she could hear the echo of their heavy breathing above the noise of her heart pounding in her ears. She felt alive.

As soon as they walked through the front door, Kate's eyes scanned the loft, looking for the other inhabitants. To her surprise, she found the living room empty.

"Hello?" she called.

"In here!" came a shout from Castle's office.

She walked over to the office, surprised to see Castle sitting at his desk working on his laptop. Even more astonishing was the sight of the twins sitting at his desk, heads bent over their notebooks, pencils in hand.

Kate glanced at Castle, only to find the writer already looking her. And clearly giving her a once-over. Kate suddenly thought of the way the sweaty lycra must cling to her skin, and almost blushed. Luckily, she was so red-faced from the run, she doubted anyone would notice.

Castle finally seemed to realise what he was doing, because his eyes snapped up to meet hers.

Now it was his turn to blush.

Kate decided to let him off the hook (mostly cause calling him on his distraction was only likely to head to a place she wasn't sure she was ready to go yet). Instead she looked over at the boys briefly, and then flicked her eyes back to Castle, raising her eyebrows as if to ask him what was going on. Castle smiled in return.

"What are you boys up to?" she asked.

The twin on the left – Kate thought it was Eli, because the blue T-shirt he was wearing was Eli's shirt (although the twins sometimes swapped clothes - or names - just to confuse them) – looked up at her.

"Writing," he replied.

"Duh," said the twin on the right.

"Hey!" said Castle in warning. They had been fighting a losing battle in getting the twin to stop saying 'duh' for nearly a week.

"Sorry," said Right Twin automatically, not sounding very contrite.

"Homework," Castle explained.

"We have to write about if we could have any pet what would it be, and why," explained Right Twin.

"And draw a picture," added Left.

"And what did you decide on?" asked Beckett.

"A dragon."

"Of course," said Kate with a smile.

"We did discuss the pros of flying transportation, intimidating size and street cred of being of dragon owner, weighted with the cons of accidental fire damage, high cost of upkeep and general unpleasantness toward humans, but they would not be dissuaded," explained Castle.

Kate smiled, amused at Castle's seriousness.

"But they could fly us to school, and then we wouldn't have to take the subway anymore."

"And if anyone was mean then BAM! you could just make it breath fire on them."

"Those are very persuasive arguments," she conceded.

With a fond smile at the boys, she headed back out to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Alexis had apparently used Kate's distraction to run upstairs, which mean the teenager would grab first shower.

She reached for a bottle of water from the fridge, and chugged half of it in one mouthful.

Suddenly, the shrill crying of her cell phone rang out. She picked it up, frowning for a moment. She wasn't on call today, and she didn't recognise the number on the display.

"Beckett."

"Detective Kate Beckett?"

"Yeah," she replied, warily.

"This is John Raglan. I don't know if you remember me. I was –"

"The lead detective on my mother's murder investigation. I remember you." Unconsciously, her eyes found Castle, still sitting behind his desk in the office. As though sensing her eyes on him, he looked up. Even though Kate knew he was too far away for him to have heard her side of the conversation, he must have read the expression on her face, because he was standing up and making his way over to her instantly.

"We need to talk. There is – there are – things you should know."

"Okay."

"The Coffee Stop. Corner of 4th and Main. Meet me there in an hour."

"Okay," she repeated.

"Just you, no cops."

"What's going on?" she demanded. But he had already hung up.

* * *

><p>Raglan sat in a booth by the window. "That's him," said Kate.<p>

"Lady, what part of 'no cops' didn't you understand?" Raglan asked as Castle slid into the booth.

"He's not a cop."

"Although she is," said Castle. "So the premise was fundamentally flawed."

"Who the hell is he then?" Raglan asked, ignoring Castle's jibe.

"Someone I trust."

The waitress came over and offered them coffee. Castle took one look at the sludge in the pot she was holding and wrinkled his nose. Kate shook her head at the waitress, answering for them both.

"Tell me what I don't know about my mother's murder," said Kate, as soon as the waitress was gone.

"Everybody drinks their coffee out of cardboard cups these days. Or those plastic travel mugs, but there's something about the way ceramic warms your hands that… it's weird, the things you notice. I just got the long face from the Doc. Lymphoma. Six months."

"Sorry to hear that," said Kate. Although a vindictive part of her wondered if she really meant that. This man had suppressed information that might have helped find her mother's killer.

Then she saw the way his hands shook slightly around the ceramic mug, and was instantly contrite. No matter what, no one deserved what this man was going through.

"Every year around the holidays they, they run that Christmas Carol on local TV. When I was a kid I remember that Jacob Marley scared the hell out of me. Forced to drag that, that chain around in the next world," Raglan said.

"'I wear the chain I forged in life'," quoted Castle.

"'I made it link by link," finished Raglan with a bitter smile. "I hid a lot of sins behind my badge, and now I gotta carry 'em. But your mother's case, that one weights a ton."

"Because you lied."

"I did what I was told. And I kept quiet because I was afraid. About a year ago there was a hostage stand off at your precinct. You killed a hit man named Dick Coonan. It was a big deal in the papers. People noticed."

"You know who hired Coonan to kill my mom?" Kate leaned forward unconsciously.

"You need some context here. This thing started about nineteen years ago, back before I even knew who Johanna Beckett was. Nineteen years ago I made a bad mistake. And that started the dominoes falling, and one of them was your mother."

Suddenly, there was an eruption of noise and the café window exploded around them. Kate mind took half a second to registered that someone was firing on them, even as the coffee cup on the table in front of them shattered. Somebody screamed.

"On the ground!" Beckett shouted, taking control and driving out of the booth, her body covering Castle's as they hit the floor.

Suddenly, Castle's hands were on her. "You're hit," he screamed, his face more pale than she had ever seen before. She looked down at the bloodstain on her shirt.

"It's fine," she reassured him. "It's not my blood." She picked up her radio. "One Lincoln Forty, I have shots fired on 4th and Main. I need back up and a bus."

Castle was still staring at her. His hands were shaking.

"Castle!" she said sharply. "I'm ok." She reached out and grabbed his shaking hand, bringing it to her chest. "I'm fine," she promised, pushing his hand against her chest so he could feel her breathing, the racing of her heart.

"Yeah, ok," he said, dazed.

She gave him a grim smile of reassurance.

A flare of static came from the radio in her hand. "One Lincoln Forty, please repeat your last."

Kate picked up her radio, about to repeat her request. Castle had made his way across the floor to where Raglan lay in a pool of blood. At the sound of her radio he looked up from his position checking Raglan's pulse and shook his head.

"One Lincoln Forty, please be advised this is now a homicide."

* * *

><p>"Nineteen years ago."<p>

"What?"

"Raglan. He said nineteen years ago. But my mother's murder was twelve years ago."

"It doesn't make sense."

* * *

><p>"Oh God, oh God." There was a blur of red hair and turquoise sweater, and then the staccato tap of heels rushing across the floorboards, and before he could focus there were arms around him. One arm stopped hugging for a moment, and then his head cracked into another skull as another body was pulled into the hug.<p>

Rick looked up, his brain taking a moment to compute what had just happened. His mother had flown through the door like a whirlwind, appealing to a deity she did not believe in, and then had pulled him and Beckett into a tight hug.

"It could have been you," Martha sobbed.

"It's ok," Rick reassured her.

"I heard about the shooting on the radio. It could have been you."

"It's ok, Martha," said Beckett, her voice slightly muffed from the tight hold Martha still had locked around the pair of them.

"This isn't one of Richard's books. You could have died."

Rick pulled away from the hug and Martha lowered her arms.

"You're overreacting, Mother. Where is this coming from?"

"How the hell can you say that? Think about how much you love your children," said Martha, looking at both of them, "and that is how much I love you. Think about that, and don't you dare ask me where this is coming from."

"Martha," soothed Kate, gently. The detective reached out and pulled the other woman back into a brief hug.

"You're part of this family too, young lady. Don't you dare get shot."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Kate replied. "How about I make you a drink to calm down a little?"

Martha wiped a tear from her cheek. "That would be lovely dear, thank you."

"What can I get? Water? Tea?"

"Oh, just a gin will be fine."

Beckett raised an eye at Rick over Martha's shoulder, but made her way to the kitchen.

Rick guided Martha to the couch, giving his mother a few minutes to compose herself. "Why is this case so important it's worth getting shot over, anyway?" Martha asked.

Rick looked up at Kate as she walked over with Martha's drink. "It's not really my place to say," he hedged.

"It's to do with my mother's murder," Kate broke in.

"Oh." Martha looked like she may begin crying again. "I can't ask you stop then, can I?" she asked in a small voice.

"We've been kicked of the case anyway," Kate told her.

Martha shot the detective a 'do you think I'm stupid?' look. "I doubt that will make much difference. In fact, history would indicate that the two of you do better when your investigations aren't officially sanctioned by the NYPD."

Kate looked at the older woman, and Rick could read the guilt and hesitation on her face. "I'm sorry Martha, but you know how much this means to me. I can't walk away from this one. But there's no reason for Rick to get involved, and I swear to you I will do everything I can to keep you all safe."

Rick opened his mouth to object, but Martha beat him to it. "And who's going to keep you safe? I know my son, and there is no way he's leaving you alone on this one. But you are part of this family too. And if you get yourself shot, I will damn well resuscitate you myself so I can wring your neck."

"Thanks, Martha," said Kate, with a rueful smile.

"Just promise me that you'll not take unnecessary risks. I want you to do everything you can to stay safe. Both of you." They nodded their agreement. Martha drained the rest of her glass in one gulp. "Good," she said, standing and picking up her purse. "If you need anyone to watch the boys, you just let me know."

Kate thanked her again. On impulse, Rick reached out and grabbed his mother, hugging her once more. "Thank you," he whispered softly into her hair.

Martha looked him in the eye for a moment, and Rick could read her fears reflected there. To her credit, Martha merely smiled and left without a backward glance.

* * *

><p>After dinner, Rick herded the boys upstairs for their bath, while Kate set up a murder board for her own mother's murder in the study.<p>

Honestly, if Rick wrote a book about their life, people would dismiss it as too ridiculously farfetched.

"Uncle Rick, if you and Aunty Kate die, can Alexis be our new Mom?"

Rick almost dropped the towel he was holding in shock. He righted the towel, and continued to dry Zeke's hair for a moment, trying to work up a response in his mind. "What brought this on?" he asked.

Eli walked back into the bathroom, clad in his Spiderman pyjamas. "Grams said that you almost got shot today."

"If you get shot with a bullet you die," Zeke explained.

"Not all the time," Eli argued. "Like, sometimes they just cut off your leg or something."

"They cut off your leg from bombs, not bullets."

"Not always! Sometimes the bomb just goes BANG! and blows all of you up and then there's blood and bits of you spread everywhere. Then you're just dead. They don't cut off your leg if you're dead."

"I don't really think this is a very nice conversation," Rick interjected.

"I think you made him scared," Zeke told Eli.

"If you want, Aunty Kate can check under your bed for bombs too," Eli offered.

"Thanks," said Rick absentmindedly, wondering how to get some control back into the conversation. "Right, I think your hair is all dry now mister. Time for your PJs."

"So do people always die if you shoot them?" asked Eli.

"Not always. Sometimes they get hurt, but doctors can do surgery to fix them. It depends on where the bullet hits someone, and how quickly they get to hospital…" _and I cannot believe I am having this conversation with two second graders,_ he thought.

"Ok. But if you did get shot and die, and our Mom is already in heaven, then someone needs to take us to school and make dinner and pour the milk on the cereal when the carton is really fully. I can do it if the carton is not too full, but when it's really full it's heavy and the milk doesn't come out right and sometimes it goes on the floor and I don't like cleaning it up. So can Alexis be our new Mom when you're dead? Because she's really pretty and she can take us on the subway to school and cook good."

"Ah…" Castle hedged, trying to work out what the hell to say. "Well, neither Beckett or I are planning on getting shot anytime soon, so I don't think we need to worry about that."

Zeke looked up at him in confusion. "Were you planning on getting nearly shot today? Because that seems like a pretty not responsible thing, you know." He sounded quite disapproving.

"You have to be responsible when you have kids. The pastor at our old church said that," Eli supplied.

"No, we weren't planning…that is…." Castle took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "If anything happened to me, then Aunty Kate and Alexis would take care of you. And if anything happened to Beckett,"_ ignore the stabbing pain even the thought of that brings_ "then me and Alexis and Grams will still take care of you."

He paused, waiting to see how the boys would react. What if he'd completely damaged their fragile, developing psyche? Maybe he should have just said they weren't going to die. But then, Rick had always hated when adults had lied to him when he was kid, and sworn he wasn't going to do it to Alexis. The boys were the same. Except maybe it was too soon after their mother's death to be talking about these things.

"Okay," said Eli.

Zeke ran naked from the bathroom. "Can I wear my Batman pyjamas?" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Okay?" Rick asked, baffled. _Just 'okay'. No existential crisis on the frailties of human life? No deep fear of abandonment after the death of a loved one?_

"Well," said Eli, "try not to get shot. Because we'd be really sad."

"Err, right. Thanks," said Rick, wondering why the seven year old was comforting him, rather than the other way around.

Then he set off to find Batman pyjamas.

* * *

><p>Since they were both still officially kicked off the case, they took the kids to school together the following morning. Then they headed back to the loft, and started right back in on the case.<p>

Ryan and Esposito were working the official angle down at the precinct, with a focus on Raglan's murder. They'd already managed to track the sniper down.

Rick and Beckett were at home, focusing on what could have happened 19 years ago, and how that could have led to Johanna Beckett's murder.

Esposito called to arrange meet up to share information. Thirty minutes later, he and Ryan showed up, Captain Montgomery entering behind them.

"Captain! What are you doing here? Not that it isn't good to see you, Sir. Of course. Beckett and I were just…just… talking about vacation plans. For Christmas. Uh, so yeah."

Montgomery raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a fool, Castle."

Rick thought that any response to that was only going to dig himself deeper into trouble, so he just shut up and brought the three detectives into his office, where Beckett sat before their makeshift murder board.

There weren't enough chairs in the office, so Kate, Montgomery and Ryan took a seat near the desk. Espo lent against the side table at the end of the room.

Rick dithered for a moment, and wondered whether he should offer everyone a drink.

"There's a sniper trailing you," said Esposito bluntly, staring at Beckett.

For a moment, Rick's brain short circuited.

Kate, of course, took the whole thing in her stride.

"Ryan and Esposito traced Raglan's sniper to a corporate suite in midtown," Montgomery explained. "Looks a lot like he's switched his target to you since Raglan's murder. This isn't just a kook with a deer rifle and a copy of Catcher in the Rye. This guy's a professional, highly trained and well funded, maybe part of a team."

"We found photos of you all through his suite. Looks like he's been trailing you." Esposito added.

"The boys," said Beckett. "Alexis! They're at school, unprotected."

"We don't think they're in danger," Montgomery assured her. "He's had plenty of shots. If whoever's paying him wanted you dead, you would be. Seems like he's just watching, making sure you don't get too close to the truth. If you do, I'm sure he'll be given orders to take you out."

"There's so advantage to hurting your kids. These guys know you, they know that would only make you try harder."

Despite their logical words, Rick whole body almost seemed to itch with the need to fly down to the school and check on them himself. Unable to contain his nervous energy, he started pacing.

"I'm going to put a detail on you. But I need you to stay home," said Montgomery, firmly.

"If this sniper is after me, the safest place in the city is the twelfth. Rick can take the kids away, out of town. I'll come back and work on my mom's case."

"Like hell you're doing this without me," Rick interjected.

Kate nodded in acquiescence. "Martha, then. Martha can take the kids out of town, and you and me are safe at the twelfth." She turned to the captain. "You gotta lot me have this Roy."

"We'll compromise," said Montgomery reluctantly. "You can come back to the 12th, but you are on desk duty, and you are not officially on this case. The only two places you go are here and the precinct."

Kate looked like she was going to explode. Rick walked over and lent against the armrest of her chair, resting her arm on his shoulder gently.

"Right, let's go over everything one more time," he said.

Kate smiled up at him gratefully for a moment. "OK, so here's what we know so far. Nineteen years ago Raglan and at least two other cops were kidnapping mobsters for ransom. Things went south when they tried to snatch Joe Pulgatti," said Kate.

"Instead, they mistakenly killed an undercover fed named Bob Armund. To cover their asses they pinned Armund's murder on Pulgatti," Rick continued.

"And then seven years later my mom and a group of her colleagues tried to put together an appeal for Pulgatti. Now the cops knew that if the case got over turned they would all be exposed . So they hired Dick Coonan to kill all of them."

"Then Raglan, who was under the thumb of organised crime after borrowing money for his gambling addiction, wrote off their homicides as random gang violence," said Montgomery.

"We know there were more guys involved than just Raglan," said Ryan.

"And we already know who one of them is – Raglan's old academy buddy, Gary McCallister," added Esposito.

"How do you know that?" Montgomery asked. There was an odd note to his voice.

"I pulled the dispatchers log from the archives. There was another unit backing Raglan when he arrested Pulgatti. A one man patrol unit, Officer Gary McCallister," Ryan explained.

"I think it's time we talked to McCallister."

* * *

><p>Castle looked at McCallister across the table of the interrogation room. He was calm, untouchable.<p>

But not for long.

"You tried to throw us off the scent," said Beckett.

"You tried to point the finger at Vulcan Simmons," added Castle.

"As a former cop, you knew he fit the part, so you used him to cover yourself, when the truth is that you and Raglan were up to your necks in murders and kidnappings."

"We did what we had to," said McCallister coldly.

"You killed a fed, and then you pinned it on Joe Pulgatti."

"You want me to tell you about Joe Pulgatti? About the people he put in the hospital, the ones he put in the river? But you couldn't touch him because he brought everybody. This part, this part I want to you know, cause this part I'm not ashamed of, at least we tried to do something. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't legal, but it was right," McCallister defended.

"When my mom put together that appeal for Pulgatti you got worried that she'd get onto you so you hired Dick Coonan to kill her."

"No!"

"And then when Raglan grew a conscience you had him killed too."

"No. That was someone else."

"Who?"

"Oh lady," said McCallister, leaning back in the interrogation chair. "That was someone you'll never touch. You don't understand. You woke the dragon. And this is so much better than you can comprehend."

* * *

><p>Kate flopped into her chair and lent her elbows on her desk, dropping her head into her hands. Her loose hair fell in a sheet around her face, hiding her disappointment from the room.<p>

"We're getting closer," said a voice from her side.

She ran a hand through her hair to push it back and looked up at her partner in the chair beside her. "It feels like a whole lot of dead-ends. We've got to find that shooter."

"It's fresh evidence, after all these years, and that's something. Besides, the more they try to cover this up, and more likely they are to make a mistake, and then we'll get them."

"Thanks," said Kate, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. She was glad of his support, and faith in her. She didn't know what she'd do without it. _He's not going to wait forever,_ a little voice reminded her.

"Yo," said Esposito, calling their attention. "I think we got a lead on the shooter."

Ryan came and lent on the corner of her desk, Esposito behind him. Kate nodded for them to continue.

"So, while we were looking through all that stuff we found in Lockwood's corporate suite we found anti-anxiety drugs," said Ryan.

"Snipers use them to slow down their heart rate, given them more time to fire between heart beats," added Espo.

"So we tracked down the guy who manufactures and street distributes the drugs. According to him, the capsules Lockwood was using were sold to one of his regulars, named Jolene."

"Girlfriend?" Castle suggested.

"Probably. All we got is blonde, thirties, lives in Brooklyn. So we fed her descriptors in the DMV database and got it narrowed down to two women. Jolene Granger and Jolene Anders."

"Great work guys," praised Kate. "Let's get them down here. You guys pick up Anders, and we'll take Granger."

"Ah, Boss, I don't think that's what the Captain had in mind when he put you on desk duty," said Ryan.

Kate looked over at Montgomery's empty office. "Captain's down at One for a meeting with the brass. And what he doesn't know can't hurt him."

* * *

><p>"This is it," said Castle, checking the apartment number with the DMV record Ryan had handed him.<p>

Kate knocked firmly on the door. "Jolene Granger, this is the NYPD."

They paused, but the apartment beyond the door was silent.

Kate knocked again. "Jolene Granger, NYPD," she repeated.

They waited another full minute. "We better get the Super to open the door for us," Kate decided.

"Wait," said Castle pointing at the doorjamb.

Kate looked down at the edge of the door near the handle. It was subtle, but the lock had obviously been tampered with. She turned the handle and pushed firmly on the door. It gave a little, more than it should have if it was locked correctly, but didn't open.

Castle pulled out his wallet. "Allow me," he said, grabbing a credit card and sliding it into the gap in the doorjamb. The already broken lock gave way, and Castle pushed open the door.

In the tiny apartment beyond lay the body of a woman matching Jolene's description. Kate pulled out her cell and dialed Esposito.

"Esposito," the detective answered.

"Looks like Jolene Granger is dead," Kate informed him.

Esposito sighed. "We're on our way."

Kate opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak there was a suddenly flash of light and an explosion of noise around her. She turned instinctively to where Castle was, reaching for him.

But before she could get there, the world went black.

* * *

><p>The concrete was hard beneath her cheek. She tried to move, but her head exploded in pain. Her arms were pulled at an unnatural angle and tied behind her back. The rope cut into her wrist.<p>

_Castle!_ she thought in panic. _Where is he? Is he ok?_

Ignoring the pounding in her head, she managed to turn over. Her entire body sagged in relief at the sight of the writer, sitting on the hard ground, leaning back against a pole.

"You're awake," said Castle in relief.

"Are you ok?" she managed. "Where are we?"

"I'm fine," he reassured her. "We're in some kind of warehouse with an underground parking garage. They must have used a flashbang back at Jolene's apartment and then drugged us with something. When I woke up we were in the van that brought us here. It didn't have any windows and they drove straight into the underground car park and moved us in here."

Kate nodded appreciating Castle's thorough report, even if it didn't really give her any information to work off.

Her mouth was incredibly dry. She tried to swallow, and it felt like razor blades in her throat. For a moment the pain distracted her from the throbbing of her skull.

"How's your head?" Castle asked.

"Bad," she managed. "What happened?"

"They hit you," said Castle, pausing when his voice broke. Even from three feet away, Kate could see the tears in his eyes. "You woke up as they were taking us from the van and tried to fight them. Kicked the big guy in the balls." He smiled grimly, looking proud. Then the smiled dropped from his face. "He hit you with the butt of his gun and you passed out again."

"I don't remember," said Kate, frowning in confusion. "The last thing I remember was the flashbang. Any idea why they've taken us?"

"I think they want information. This guy came down before; could be the sniper we're after. He seemed a big shot form the way the others were treating him. He wasn't impressed you were knocked out. Said now he'd have to wait to get his information."

"Well," said a voice and Kate jerked her head around, ignoring the pain, to see a guy step out of the shadows. "Looks like sleeping beauty is finally awake. Time to get this show on the road."

Two other guys appeared then, both armed. The bigger of the two seemed to get a lot of satisfaction out of pulling her up off the ground and dragging her roughly through the doorway and into a larger room. Kate bit down on her lip, desperate not to give him the satisfaction of crying out.

Once they were in the middle of the large, open space, the big guy grabbed her head and pushed her roughly to the ground. Pain erupted through her skull, and for a moment her vision swam. She landed heavily on the concrete floor. With her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to put out an arm to break her fall, but she managed to land mostly onto her shoulder, and protect her aching head. A moment later, Castle was dumped beside her.

The guy who was in charge – Kate was pretty sure this must be Lockwood, the sniper – stood over them. "I wanna congratulate you both," he said. "I don't know how you found my place, but I've been doing this kind of work for a while now and no one's ever come that close to me. But my problem is that your investigation has gone further than I expected. And now in order for me to finish my job I need to know exactly what you know about me and my employer. Now I've got a lot of respect for you guys, so I'm gonna make you a deal. You tell me what I need to know, one pro to another, and I will put a bullet in your brain. You don't and you jerk me around and you will be begging me to end you before this night is up."

"I'm gonna have to go with plan B," said Kate.

"Oh yeah," agreed Castle. "We're definitely going to jerk you around."

Lockwood nodded to his goons, and then the big guy smiled. He moved his leg back, pausing for a moment to relish the moment, and then kicked her between the legs with all his might. She gasped and curled in a ball, agony tearing through her. "Payback's a bitch," said big-guy.

Beside her, Castle too was curled into the fetal position, trying to protect himself from the kicks the other goon was raining down on him. The goon got a bit too enthusiastic, kicking Castle firmly in the head.

"Watch it!" said Lockwood. "They're no good to me brain damaged are they?"

Taking advantage of her distraction, big-guy kicked Kate again in the back, causing her head to ricochet off the concrete.

The blackness claimed her once more.

* * *

><p>Kate was startled awake, gasping, as a bucket of ice water was poured over her head.<p>

"You want to sleep, lady?" asked Lockwood. "I got no problem with that. Just answer my questions and I'll put a bullet in you. Painless. Respectful."

"Go to hell."

"Always so brave. At least at the start. The begging comes later." Lockwood indicated two large containers in front of him. "See, this is ice cold water. It'll burn like hell when it hits your lungs. But you won't lose consciousness again. All this stops when you tell me how much the cops know."

With that, he nodded. One of the guys grabbed her, while the other grabbed Castle.

Then her head was under the ice and it was so cold the breath was knocked out of her as she gasped. But her head was still under water and she couldn't breathe and it was so, so cold, but her lungs were burning.

Finally, the hand holding the back of her leg eased off, and she pushed her face from the water, gasping for precious air.

"Again," called Lockwood.

She didn't know how long it went on for. It felt like hours, but could have been only minutes. There was only pain and cold, and gasping – sometimes air, but sometimes ice cold water.

Finally it stopped.

"You going to tell me what I need to know?" asked Lockwood.

Castle nodded, wearily. Kate didn't blame him for cracking. This was more than anyone should have to bear.

Lockwood leaned in.

"That jacket is so last season," Castle crocked out.

Lockwood's shout of rage was cut off abruptly as her head was shoved back under the icy water. She held her breath, but it wasn't long enough. She gasped, and her lungs burnt as the icy water flooded in. But still they kept her under water.

_I'm going to drown,_ she realised. _This is it. I'm going to die in a bucket of water in a warehouse. And Castle…_

She thought of Castle, and all the moments they wouldn't get to have. She wondered if somehow he would know that her final thought in life was of him.

Then her hair was yanked and suddenly her face wasn't in the water, and she could breathe, and air had never tasted so sweet and perfect. She coughed the water from her lungs, and then vomited water straight back into the container before her. She was still retching when she felt the hand at the back of her head pushing her back under water.

_No, _she thought. _No, please, no. _But she stayed silent.

"Stop," said Lockwood suddenly. "We're doing this wrong."

Kate used this minor reprieve to gasp in as much air as possible. Beside her, Castle was suddenly pulled from the water. He gasped, almost seeming to swallow air in her desperation to fill his lungs. Then he lent over slightly and vomiting a puddle of water onto the floor. Some of the water hit the boot of the guy holding him down, and the guy kicked Castle in retaliation, wiping his boot on Castle's shirt.

Kate looked up at Lockwood. She was aiming for defiant, but she probably looked defeated, huddling in a wet, shivering mess at his feet.

There was a gleam in his eye which stopped her heart. "Make him watch," said Lockwood.

So they dragged Castle over she was opposite her, and then they dunked her again. She tried not to struggle, tried desperately to preserve the air she had, she tried to calm her racing heart. But it was all impossible.

_They'll find us_, she promised herself. _Ryan and Espo are probably on their way now. You just have to hold on a little longer._

When they pulled her head out this time, the first thing she saw was Rick's eyes. The pain in them was almost more excruciating then those icy breaths under water.

Lockwood was expecting Castle to break down and tell him everything because he couldn't bear to watch her suffer, Kate knew. But the opposite might be true, she thought. Castle would never betray her, no matter how much pain it caused him to see her hurt. So she was the only one who could end this. The only way to end Castle's agony would be to end her own.

Then she was back in the water again, and it was pain, pain, pain. _Hurry,_ she silently willed her fellow detectives. _I don't know how much longer I can last._

Either Lockwood picked up on her feelings for Castle, or he just wasn't a patient man.

"This is getting us nowhere," he said. Kate gasped in relief, thinking they might get a few minutes of reprieve while Lockwood set up the next torture device. "We don't need this one," he said, pointing at Castle. "He's not even a cop. He probably doesn't know anything. Kill him. And then shoot out her kneecaps until she tells us what we want."

"No!" she cried. She crawled on her knees, trying to get to Castle, desperate. But her hands were still tied behind her back, and the bucket of ice water was between them, and she couldn't move fast enough, and the little goon already had his gun pointed at Castle.

A shot rang out. Kate's heart stopped.

Then there was another shot, and people flooded the room. It wasn't until she heard Ryan shouting her name that she realised it was a SWAT team.

"Are you ok?" Ryan was asking, running his hands over her head, her arms, looking for damage.

He looked guilty, she thought, but her addled brain couldn't figure out why. "We got here as soon as we could," Ryan said.

She must look a fright, she thought. Her head wound had bled a lot, making the icy water they'd been dunking her in all red. She was covered in that water now, her wet clothes clinging to her, stained red.

Finally, her brain kick-started. "Castle!" she gasped, her eyes searching for him. But there were too many people in the room.

She tried to stand, lurching forward. Her head rushed as soon as she was upright, and she propelled herself in the direction she had last seen him, swaying dangerously as her vision blurred. Blackness crept in, but she held it at bay, desperately.

And then he was before her.

Half drowned, one eye swollen shut, with bruises blooming on his skin.

But breathing.

Alive.

He was the most perfect thing she'd ever seen.

She threw herself into his arms. Luckily, although her hands were still tied, someone had cut Castle's wrists free, so he was able to grab her as she lurched toward him and pulled her into his chest.

"You're ok," he whispered, half-amazement, half-promise.

She tried to raise her head, to look into his eyes. "I love you," she whispered back, as the blackness crept in. Then she could only hear the steady thump of his heart beating in his chest, as darkness claimed her once more.


	19. Chapter 19

Kate Beckett awoke in bed, with a warm blanket over her. Which was a million times better than the last two times she'd regained consciousness, only to find herself held captive by a sniper involved in the conspiracy which had cost her mother her life.

It wasn't her bed though. She looked around in confusion. Then the white sheets and oxygen tubing made a bit more sense. Hospital. She was in a hospital bed.

Now that she thought about it, she had vague memories of being in the back of an ambulance. And she has fuzzy recollections of someone shining a bright light in her eyes, and telling her to squeeze their hands and asking her who the President was.

She moved slightly, trying to take stock of her body. She had a headache, and it kind of hurt to move her eyes. Her right shoulder was pretty sore, and every part of her from her public bone to her throat burned. She remembered that big guy who worked for Lockwood kicking her repeatedly in the guts and wasn't surprised.

She tried to stretch out her arm, but it caught on something beneath the sheets. For a terrified moment, she remembered how her arms had been tied behind her back and panic flooded her. She yanked harder, and her hand came free. When she pulled it from under the covers, she saw the little IV drip line sitting in the back of her hand. _It must have gotten caught on a thread in the blanket_, she realised.

Then she caught sight of the chair beside her bed, and her heart melted.

Castle slumped in the chair which was way too small for him. His head was thrown back, his mouth open in sleep. Both of his hands reached out toward her bed.

Kate couldn't resist reaching out and grabbing the hand nearest her. She entwined their fingers and then hugged their joint hands into her chest.

Within moments, she had fallen back to sleep.

When she woke again, it was to bustle of a nurse in her room.

"How you feeling?" asked the nurse when she noticed Kate was awake.

Kate darted her tongue out to moisten her dry lips. "Thirsty," she managed. "Pain," she added.

"Well," she the nurse with a friendly smile. "We can fix that." She reached over and grabbed a cup off the nightstand and filled it with water. Then she added a straw and held the end to Kate's lips. She drunk the entire glass in one go.

"Again. Please."

The nurse chuckled and refilled the glass. Kate drunk it just as quickly.

"More?" the nurse offered.

"I'm ok for now."

The nurse refilled the cup again, but left it on the bedside table. "Good. Now I'll get you some more painkillers in half a minute. Just let me check your blood pressure first."

"Ok," Kate agreed.

"I'm going to have to borrow an arm off lover-boy for that," the nurse prompted.

Kate looked over and realised that Castle was still sleeping in the chair beside her, both of their hands wrapped in together. The old Kate Beckett would have protested and said that she and Castle were just friends. But the new Kate Beckett was sick of being afraid. If Castle wasn't her lover boy yet, she was damn going to make sure he was sometime soon.

She freed an arm from Castle, waking him in the process.

"Hi," she smiled, as the nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm.

"Hey," he said, his voice croaky and dry. Kate reached out and grabbed the cup of water the nurse had given her and handed it to him. He drunk it just as rapidly as she had.

The nurse huffed. "I need you to hold this arm still for a few seconds so I can check your blood pressure," she said.

"Sorry," Kate replied, although the nurse didn't really seem annoyed. She was looking at them fondly.

"110/70," said the nurse a moment later. "You can have your arm back now."

"Is that ok?" asked Castle.

"For a fit young woman like Katherine, that's perfect," said the nurse.

"Does that mean I can go home? And call me Kate."

"Well, Kate, going home is up to the doctor. They'll be in on rounds in an hour or two. But I don't see why not."

"Why am I here, anyway?"

"You had a concussion," said Castle. "And they wanted to give us both a shot of some antibiotics because of all the water in our lungs."

"Oh," her hand went up to her head, feeling where she'd been hit. It felt bumpy under her fingers.

"You got stiches," Castle added.

"I'll go get you those painkillers," said the nurse, leaving.

Kate reached out and found Castle's hand again. "Did you let everyone know what happened?"

"Yeah. Your dad and Alexis came in. I sent them home late last night. Or early this morning I guess. Mother wanted to come, but she stayed to look after the boys. I didn't want the boys to see you like this. Not so soon after…" he trailed off.

"Thanks," she said.

"You were pretty out of it last night. Concussions can make people pretty confused, you know, say crazy things."

She looked at him in confusion for a moment. He was avoiding eye contact, looking over at the IV pole in the corner of the bed.

He was giving her an out, she realised. He'd heard her say she loved him, and now he was giving her an excuse, so they could pretend it didn't mean anything, and go on the way things were before.

Only she was tired of the way things were before.

She didn't want an out.

Gently, she pulled their joint hands over toward her. Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

He looked over at her in surprise.

"Oh no," she said, locking eyes with him. Fear settle deep in her gut. And besides that, determination. "You can't use that excuse. I'm crazy in love with you, concussion or no."

For a moment she paused, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, terrified of his reaction. Then his entire face lit up.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," she promised, and then his lips were on hers, and how had she even been afraid of this, when all it felt like was natural and right?

"Hem, hem," came a polite cough, interrupting them. Kate broke away from Rick in shock, her eyes flying around the room. The nurse stood in the doorway, a small cup in her hand. "If you could spare me a minute of your time, I've got that pain tablet for you," she teased.

"Right," said Kate, flushing. She accepted the tablets and swallowed them with another glass of water.

"When I told you not to get shot, that didn't mean I was giving you permission to get tortured," said a voice from the doorway.

Kate barely had time to identify where the voice was coming from before she was surrounded by Martha's arms. She was suddenly glad Martha hadn't come in two minutes earlier and found Kate with her tongue down her son's throat.

"Sorry, Martha," said Kate.

"From now on, I absolutely forbid you from acquiring any injury worse than a paper cut. For at least the next year. I may look fabulous, but I'm not as young as I once was, and I'm not sure my heart can handle all of this."

Kate smiled up at the older woman as she broke the hug. "I'll do my best," she promised.

"I'm not sure that's going to be adequate, given the way trouble seems to find you."

Kate searched for the bed controller, wanting to sit up a bit more. Castle found it for her, and (after a series of false-starts) managed to elevate the bed head to a sitting position.

"I brought you in some clothes, in case they let you go today," Martha continued, holding up a small bag.

"Thank you," said Kate in relief. "A shower and some real clothes sounds amazing." She took the bag from Martha and stood up from the bed. She paused for a moment, as a wave of dizziness overcame her.

"Are you ok?" asked Castle in concern. "Maybe a shower is too much."

Kate waved off his concern, the dizziness almost passed. "I'm fine," she said. "Just been lying down too long." Her head cleared, and she walked over to the bathroom in the corner of the room. Halfway, she realised she was still attached to the IV line, so she had to go back and drag the IV pole over with her.

"Are you sure?" Castle asked. "Do you need me to come in with you?"

"To the shower?" Kate asked incredulously, glancing at Martha. Yeah, she wanted to move forward in their relationship. But the first time he saw her naked was not going to be when she felt (and probably looked) like she'd been run over by a subway train, with him propping her up in a tiny hospital bathroom and his mother just outside the door.

Fortunately, the nurse saved the day again, appearing at the door with some towels. "Right then, Kate," she said. "Let's try and wash that blood out of your hair so you don't scare the general populous when we let you out of here."

Kate nodded in relief, and the nurse unplugged the IV line from the drip in her hand, so they could leave the IV pole behind. Then she and the nurse disappeared into the tiny bathroom, leaving Martha and Castle in the hospital room.

"If you're going to see me naked, I better at least know your name," Kate said to the nurse.

"Hannah."

"Thank you, Hannah."

The nurse just waved off her thanks with a smile.

As Hannah helped her take off the hospital gown, Kate caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, still caked with dried blood in places. And her chest and abdomen bloomed with half a dozen dark bruises. Kate groaned.

Still, with Hannah's gentle assistance, she was able to get her hair cleaned. Well, she was able to sit on the chair in the shower while Hannah washed it, which was close enough. Once her hair was clean, she insisted on the nurse leaving to see to her other patients, and managed to finish washing, and then dried and dressed herself without assistance. It was a little sad that that felt like such a major accomplishment.

Combing her hair, with all the stiches and bruising, was a new experience in pain. But still, once she was sitting back in the hospital bed, in her own clothes, she felt almost human.

All she needed was a cup of coffee, and she might actually start to believe she could survive this.

* * *

><p>Castle was over solicitous the whole way home, racing ahead to open every door for her, then rushing back to put his arm around her back and guide her as she walked. Kate allowed it only because she noted the amused look on Martha's face, watching the whole thing. As he fluffed the pillows on the couch and delicately arranged blankets so she wouldn't get too cold, she finally lost her patience.<p>

"Castle! I'm fine."

"Are you sure you don't need another blanket?"

She shot him a dark look.

Castle pouted.

"Cut your losses, darling," Martha advised her son. "Kate's been very tolerant, but she's not made of glass."

Kate shot the older woman a grateful look.

For all her exasperation with Castle's hovering, Kate found herself worn out by mid-afternoon. Castle noticed, and got the boys to come and watch a movie with them in the lounge. He'd barely started _The Lion King,_ and taken a seat on the end of the sofa, with Kate's feet in his lap, before she fell asleep. When she woke, the credits were rolling.

"Wow, I really zonked out," she commented.

"Yeah," Castle agreed. "You even missed the boys' loud rendition of 'Aching for some Bacon' in the third act."

* * *

><p>Kate's strength improved after a good night's sleep, but Captain Montgomery still insisted she take the rest of the week as sick leave. By Friday she was bored and restless. So when Martha offered to watch the kids so Castle could take her out to dinner, Kate jumped at the chance.<p>

It wasn't until she was getting ready, that she started to wonder just what this dinner was. In the days since she had confessed her feelings for the writer, he had been attentive and caring, but he hadn't made any romantic overtures. Mind you, neither had she. They hadn't even kissed since their first kiss at the hospital.

So, was this their first official date?

Just the thought sent butterflies bursting through her stomach. Kate tried to tell herself that it was ridiculous to be nervous about going out to dinner with someone she ate three meals a day with every day.

Still, she changed her outfit three times, and her hair twice. She worried about how much make-up to wear and brushed and flossed her teeth with extra care, even though logically, if there was going to be a kissing section to the evening, it was most likely going to be after dinner, so flossing her teeth now was hardly going to make a difference.

By the time she was ready to leave, she had built herself up into such a state of nervousness it was beginning to boarder on panic.

_It will be fine,_ she told herself as they kissed the boys and headed out the front door._ It's just dinner with Castle. What could go wrong?_

It was horrible.

Once, in an embarrassing moment of self-pity and loneliness, twenty-two year old Kate Beckett had closed the mystery novel she had just finished reading and imagined what it would be like to go on a date with its author. To be wined and dined by Richard Castle. It would be decadent and frivolous, and a world away from the pain and anguish of her mother's murder and her father's alcoholism, and her own failure to fix any of it.

She'd supressed even the memory of that moment of weakness, especially after she met the author, and then slowly met the man behind the author's façade.

So, maybe it was a hangover from that younger Beckett's imagining, and maybe it was a product of Rick's playboy image, but from the moment they he'd asked her on this date (ok, maybe even in the year leading up to the moment he asked her on this date) she had a picture of what it would be like.

There would be a huge bouquet of her favourite flowers and then a fancy car – maybe even a limo – to a gorgeous, exclusive haunt of the rich and famous. The kind of place ordinary people made reservations for years in advance.

They'd eat tiny meals on enormous plates, ordered from menus that had no prices (_because if have to ask, you can't afford Kaite-girl_, as her father would have said) and washed down with the very finest champagne. He'd be charming, and witty, and her head would spin from the decadence and allure and maybe a little bit because of the champagne.

And when he escorted her home, like a gentleman, _she'd_ kiss _him_ with such intensity he'd lose all composure, and then she'd smile at him with a half turned-up smile and fire in her eyes and wish him goodnight.

That was how it was supposed to go.

So far, the whole night was entirely off script.

And incredibly awkward.

Martha was the one who suggested they go out, saying they needed a break after everything they'd just gone through. Castle had been reluctant to leave the boys, even with Martha, and Kate tried to remember it was because he worried about them, and not focus on the fact that it felt like he was only going out with her because his mother made him.

Castle had insisted on the location of dinner being a surprise. And Kate had certainly been surprised when they pulled up in a parking garage rather than a restaurant with a valet. Castle had jumped out of the car the moment they stopped, so she couldn't even shoot him a quizzical expression. She'd reached for her handbag by her feet in the car and then straightened up and opened her door.

Straight into Castle's shin.

"Mother f-ather," Castle shouted, grabbing his shin and hopping on one leg.

Apparently, he'd bolted from the car to be a gentleman and open her car door. And she'd managed to cause him bodily harm.

He'd had to rest for a moment before he could make the three block hobble to the restaurant. She'd spent the whole walk apologising.

At first, when he stopped outside the restaurant, she thought he just needed to rest his leg. She thought she'd done a good job at hiding her disappointment when she realised this was where they were headed for dinner, but Castle could read her like one of his books.

"We could go somewhere else, if you like," he suggested.

"No!" she said quickly. "This is perfect."

"You love Italian," he replied.

"I do," she agreed quickly.

The restaurant was in what was obviously a renovated factory. It was packed with people and the sounds of people talking and laughing, interspersed with shouting and crashes in the kitchen bounced off the concrete walls, amplifying the noise into a cacophony of sound.

They waited near the front of the room for several minutes before the maître d' appeared, giving them a once over with a bored expression. Kate took in his scraggly beard, large thick rimmed glasses and tight hipster jeans. "Yeah?" he drawled.

"Castle. Booking for two."

The other man grunted, glancing down at a scrawled list on the bench before him. "Ain't here," he said. "Sorry," he added, looking anything but.

"I called," Castle said, leaning to look at the list upside down. "Here," he pointed, spotting his name on the list.

The hipster waiter looked again, squinting. They he reached up and pulled off his glasses. "Oh yeah," he said as soon as the glasses were removed. "Can't see a thing in these."

Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Our table?" Castle finally prompted after the maître d' did nothing but stare at them.

"Oh, it ain't ready yet."

Castle was starting to get annoyed. "Look, we had a booking for seven o'clock," he started.

"Chill out, Pop," the waiter broke in.

Castle looked like he might blow a gasket. Kate stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly to help him calm down.

She smiled pleasantly at the maître d'. "Perhaps you could tell us when it will be ready?" she asked.

"Won't be too long," he said. "Why don't you and the old man chill at the bar, and I'll come get you when it's ready?"

"Old man!" Castle spluttered. He was so mad words seem to be failing him.

Hipster finally seemed to realise his handling of the situation left a lot to be desired. Or he was just scared that Castle would have a stroke right in front of him.

"It's all good," he reassured them. "Here," he dug around in the pocket of his shirt for a moment, then pulled out a coupon, and, with the air of someone bestowing a great favour, handed the card to Castle. "There ya are. 10% off your first purchase at the bar."

Alarmed at the way Castle was still spluttering, Kate took the coupon from the waiter and tugged Castle over toward the bar in the corner of the restaurant.

"He – I – old man!" Castle rambled.

"Cheer up, Gramps, I'll buy you a drink," Kate offered. "Wine?"

"No! Wine is for old people. I want – one of those," Castle replied, pointing at an electric green cocktail in the hands of a 20-something at the bar.

Kate waded onto the queue around the bar, weaving around the drunken patrons easily and ordered their drinks. There wasn't any room to sit at the bar, so once Kate had battled her way through the crowd and back to Castle, they were forced to stand awkwardly in the only free space, which happened to be the three feet between the edge of the bar area and the edge of the restaurant section where the tables were.

She tried to make conversation, but Castle still seemed upset about the maître d's implication that he was old. Kate didn't really hold any hope of them ever getting a table. She figured they could finish their drinks and hopefully Castle would calm down, and they could head out and find somewhere quieter. So she was surprised – and a bit disappointed – when a tough looking chick came over to them as they were finishing their drinks.

"Castle?" asked the girl and then indicated they should follow her, without really waiting for an answer.

The waitress had short cropped hair and a least half a dozen piercings through her lip, nose and eyebrows. She led them to a small table at the back of the room, which she wiped down with a dirty rag that seemed to appear from thin air.

"Sorry about the wait. Crazy night. Here are your menus," she said, putting the menus down. Kate looked at her in surprise. She hadn't had a thing in her hand a second ago. Where had they come from? "And the drinks menu," she added, once again seeming to pluck the small book from nowhere. "I'll give you a minute."

She looked at Castle, to see what he made of their magical server, but the writer was opening menu, a stormy look still on his face.

Kate sighed, and tried to think of a topic to cheer him up, but nothing came to mind. She wanted tonight to be about them. Not about the kids, or either of their jobs. But she found that didn't leave a lot.

Frustrated, she retreated into her menu as Castle had.

"Want to get a couple of different pizzas and share?" she asked a moment later, looking at him over the top of her menu.

"Oh!" he said in surprise, looking down at his closed menu. "Yeah, I guess we could."

"Sorry, I didn't realise you'd already chosen," she apologised.

"No, really, it's fine. I can change," he gathered up his menu.

"No, that's ok, you have what you like. I'll just get…" she glanced wildly over the menu "the salmon."

"The salmon?" he asked. She nodded. "Which is served on a bed of steamed Brussel sprouts, your absolute most hated vegetable."

Her eyes darted back to the menu in horror. "Yes," she said cautiously. "But maybe you're right, I should get something more traditionally Italian, I suppose, since this is an Italian restaurant." She looked quickly over the rest of the selection.

"Ready to order?" said their waitress, suddenly reappearing.

"Er, yes," she said, still trying desperately to find something on the menu. They'd had pasta for dinner last night, and she really didn't want it again….

"We'll share some pizza," Castle said, smiling at the waitress. "One medium eggplant and mozzarella and one Tandoori chicken, please."

"Very good," said the waitress, disappearing with their menus.

"Thank you," said Kate when she was gone, she couldn't help but smile at the way he'd picked two of her favourite pizzas. He really did know her too well.

Castle smiled back, and for a moment Kate was sure they had turned the tide of this terrible date. A rocky start, but she was sure they'd soon be laughing about it.

The silence stretched just a bit too long, both of them still smiling at ear other across the table. Suddenly, her mouth felt sore and she realised they were both just staring. Desperately she tried to think of what to say.

She wondered how the boys were doing with Martha. But she couldn't lead with that, right? She didn't want to be one of those couples that had nothing in common but their kids.

Suddenly, she remembered a hilarious story Esposito had told her at work the other day. She opened her mouth, and then shut it abruptly. Of course, Castle had been standing right beside her when Esposito was telling it, so she could hardly use it as an icebreaker now.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe they were too close for this to work. Take away the kids and the job, and what did they have left in common? A millionaire playboy writer and an ex-biker chick cop?

The table beside them suddenly burst into laughter. In fact, the whole restaurant was so full of noise and laughter, Kate could barely hear herself think. The jubilation of the other patrons only seemed to highlight the silence at theirs.

"This place – "

"I think – "

They both started at the same time, and stopped abruptly.

"Sorry," said Castle.

"No, you go ahead," said Kate.

"No, really, after you," Castle insisted.

"I was just going to say that this place is very popular," Kate finished lamely.

"Oh," said Castle. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Silence again.

"Have you been here before?" Kate ventured.

"No," said Castle.

Kate was going to ask why he had chosen it for tonight then, but couldn't think of a way to ask that didn't sound accusing.

"Oh," she said instead. Looking for a distraction, she reached out for her wine glass, only to realise it was empty when it was halfway to her lips. She put it back down on the table, self-consciously.

When their waitress appeared out of thin air again, Kate could have kissed her. "Another drink?" she offered.

Kate nodded.

"And for you, Sir?" the waitress asked, turning to Castle.

His face screwed up more at the 'sir'.

"No, thanks," he said, gesturing at his half-drunk cocktail forlornly.

The waitress disappeared and silence settled over the table again.

"What were you going to say? Before?" Kate asked.

"Hmm?" murmured Castle, looking up from his death glare at his bright green drink. "Oh, just that I think it might rain this weekend."

This is what we've come to, thought Kate glumly. Talk about the weather.

The problem was that they weren't quite 'friends' and weren't quite 'dating'. The usual safe first date fodder - what do you do? where did you grow up? what's your favourite movie? etc – was useless to two people who knew each other as well as they did. On the other hand, they couldn't just talk about their latest case like this was just another day at the office. The whole point of this date was that they were supposed to be more than that.

Even once their dinner arrived things were strained and over-polite. The restaurant grew increasingly loud as the bar overflowed and the tables around them were filled with partying hipsters. Kate found herself claiming she was too full for desert, just so the whole thing could end.

By the time they hit the street, Kate's ears were ringing from the sudden silence after all the noise.

She walked closer to Castle than usual, half hoping that he might take her hand. But he never took the hint, or didn't want to, and they walked in silence back to the car. At least he had stopped limping.

The ride up to the loft in the lift was possible some of the most awkwardly strained of Kate Beckett's life. It got to the point where she, a lifelong hater of Muzak, almost wished for some horrible artificial stains to fill the air and relieve some of the tension. She looked at the doors in front of her, but their mirrored surface just reflected failure back; she and Castle, separated by endless distance and two feet, avoiding eye-contact in the enclosed space.

The moment Castle unlocked the loft's front door, she made for the stairs.

"Did you have a nice night?" Alexis asked from the couch. Martha sat beside her, a black-and-white film playing on the screen. The two redheads' raised eyebrows and expectant faces were more than the detective could bear. She retreated up the stairs in a flash, muttering something about checking on the boys.

"What did you do?" she could hear Martha ask her son as she retreated up the stairs.

Kate looked in on the boys – both asleep – and then headed straight for her bedroom, closing the door and leaning against it. After a moment, she let herself slide down and sat on the floor, drawing her legs in and hugging them close. She squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears of disappointment threatened to fall.

She was being ridiculous. She was acting like a teenager, disappointed over a bad date to prom.

But it wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to awkward with Castle. It was never awkward with Castle. He pissed her off, and pulled her pigtails, and infuriated and attracted her in equal measure, at first. And then, slowly, he had inched so easily into her life, pushing her beyond her boundaries – both professionally and personally. As trite as it sounded, he had made her a better person.

Dating him was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to feel familiar and safe. It was supposed to feel like home.

And yet, it had been a complete disaster.

Kate didn't know how long she sat on the floor. The sounds of Alexis preparing for bed came and went, and the house was silent.

_Enough,_ she thought. _Enough self-pity. So, you and Castle aren't meant to be more than friends. It was good you worked it out quickly, instead of dragging this on, and having a messy break-up down the line. Now you can just go back to being friends._

But she didn't want to be Castle's friend. She didn't want to live with him, and raise the kids with him, and be in love with him, and watch him date other women and fall in love with them, and just be his friend.

She wished she could talk to her mom.

Did Johanna Beckett ever have a horrible first date? She wished she could go back in time, and talk to her Mom and share their very worst date stories, and laugh. She wished she could introduce her to Rick. They would have got along like a house on fire.

Unbidden, a memory came to her, of a moment just like this one, when she sat on her bedroom floor and felt just as she did now. She'd never been one of the drama club kids, but for some reason in middle school, she'd got it in her head to try out for a school play. She'd been bitterly disappointed when she didn't get a part, and her Mom had come home to find her crying. Kate had sobbed out the story, and Johanna had comforted her, but asked her if she was going to give up that easily.

Kate had been confused and a little angry at first, but she'd thought about what her Mom had said, and instead of crying about her missed chance, she'd signed up for set design for the play. She'd still be involved, and had a hell of a lot of fun, and made some new friends.

Was she going to give up that easily?

One bad date with Castle, and she was ready to throw in the towel? She knew that you couldn't force a relationship if it just wasn't there – Heaven knows Will had tried hard enough when they were together – but could she really live with herself if she gave up after one spectacularly bad date with Castle?

Determination straightened her spine. Although she hadn't actually been crying, she went to the bathroom and washed her face. She looked back at her reflection in the mirror with resolve in her eyes. It was time to go out there and get what she wanted.

The apartment was dark, but Kate was easily able to navigate her way to Rick's bedroom. She knocked firmly on the door, determination filling her.

"Yeah?" said Castle.

"It's me," she called.

The door opened a moment later, Castle standing before her, looking contrite and nervous.

Before she could lose her nerve, Kate flung herself at him. He jumped in surprise, but caught her with a hand around her waist. Before he could protest, Kate brought her lips down on his.

It was all the awkwardness of their date in physical form. Kate opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, only to be met with his closed mouth. He tried to shift and their noses bumped painfully.

Kate pulled away, heat flooding her face. She tried to take a step backward, avoiding eye contact, but Castle's arm around her waist tightened, pulling her into him once more. He tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his eye.

His hand stoked her cheek softly, reverently. His eyes sparkled with awe when he looked at her. For a moment the look in his eyes make the whole horrible date fade away. For a moment there was just him and her, and the devotion that lit up his face.

"Kate," he whispered.

And this time when his lips met hers there were no clashing teeth and bumping noses. This was not the demanding passion that she'd imagined when she marched down the stairs, determined to make this work between them. This was tenderness and dedication. Her stomach dropped and her heart sped up, and it felt like her bones ached with the weight of it. It felt like a promise.

This time, when she pulled away, she didn't look away. They locked eyes for long moments, and Kate felt like they spoke volumes, yet she couldn't work out a single word.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

Castle stepped back from the door and she followed him into the room, taking a seat on his bed. She grabbed one of the throw pillows from the bed and pulled it into her stomach, hugging it tightly to her. A moment later, Castle joined her on the bed.

"That didn't go well," she started.

Castle looked surprised. He must have thought she was saying the kiss hadn't gone well, she realised.

"Dinner," she explained.

He nodded.

She tugged at the pillow, avoiding eye contact. "Why?" she ventured.

"I don't know," he admitted in defeat. "Maybe we just don't work."

"No. You're my best friend. You know everything about me and you don't run. You kiss me like _that._ We've got chemistry coming out the wazoo. It's not us. That was just a bad date. We're not giving up."

He leant forward, kissing her again, hard and demanding this time. The pillow she had been hugging to her stomach was trapped between them, forgotten. She broke away, breathless.

"Exactly," she said. "That's us. Solving murders with pithy remarks and witty banter? That's us. Whatever that was tonight, that wasn't us."

"That's my fault. I shouldn't have chosen that place."

"Why did you?"

"Because I'm old."

She raised an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"Ok, I'm older. Than you."

"And you think that matters to me?"

"No, I guess not. I just wanted to pick some cool up-and-coming place, so you'd think I'm still with it."

"You're a New York Times bestselling author. You've very 'with it'," she promised. "If I wanted some young toy-boy I'd pick up one of the mannys at the kids' school."

"But you don't."

"No, I don't. I want you. Not someone older or younger or richer or taller or hotter."

"Hey!"

"I want you, Rick. Only you. Exactly how you are."

"Really?"

"Don't let it go to your head," she tried to warn him, but his lips were already on hers. He broke off, kissing along her jaw line, his teeth grazing her neck as he slid down, until his mouth was at the exact spot at the junction of her neck and collarbone that drove her wild.

"So, no more hipster bars?" she asked.

"No more," he agreed.

"Next time just take me to one of those swanky places where they have real linen napkins folded like origami cranes that the waiters put on your lap for you."

"Really?" asked Castle in surprise, pulling away.

"Are you saying I'm not worth it?" she joked. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. It was a joke, but it hit a little too close to the root of her insecurities.

"Oh, you're worth a lot more than that. I just usually – I mean – I didn't want you to think that you're just another page six girl."

Suddenly Kate got it. She remembered the fancy dinner she'd imagined having with _Richard Castle,_ the author on the jacket of her favourite novel. She'd imagined an extravagant, expensive dinner because that's exactly what Richard Castle did. That was his calling card. And he hadn't wanted to take her where he'd taken other women.

"Thank you," she said, suddenly getting it.

His mouth found hers again, but this time it was all slow and languid. This wasn't demanding. This was a slow dance, a promise of consistency. When they broke away, Castle pulled her to sit next to him, leaning against the headboard.

"It was too much pressure, wasn't it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Maybe we just need to take this slowly."

"Kate, we took three years to go on our first date. The tectonic plates are moving quicker than us."

She laughed. "Ok, maybe not slowly, so much as…" she paused, trying to work out how to say what she was feeling.

"Not put so much pressure on ourselves," Castle supplied.

"Exactly!" she agreed. "Nothing is perfect, and we shouldn't beat ourselves up trying to make it that way."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I just really want this to work," she admitted.

"It will."

"Maybe we should just keep this between us for now. We're putting enough pressure on ourselves, without everyone else sticking their nose in." She groaned. "The guys at work are going to be insufferable."

"We'll still be able to work together, right?"

Kate paused, considering. "I don't know. I mean, normally partners would never be allowed to date. But…"

"I'm not a cop."

"Well, there is that. And this is hardly a conventional partnership, in any sense of the word. But I really don't know how the brass would react."

"So we keep it on the down-low, for now."

Kate bit her lip. "You don't mind?"

"As long as you and I know this is real, I'm happy. For now."

She curled into him, letting out a grateful sigh of relief.

He sat up suddenly. "Wait! Does this mean I should cancel the announcement in the Times? What about the skywriter?"

Kate grabbed this shoulder and pulled him back beside her. Maybe, thought Kate, they were going to be ok after all.


End file.
